Resisting large-scale mining
The struggle against a large-scale mining company by the Guinaang tribe in Northern Luzon, the Philippines
Master thesis International Development Studies Anton Neefjes
Resisting large-scale mining The struggle against a large-scale mining company by the Guinaang tribe in Northern Luzon, the Philippines
Anton Neefjes Student number: 910412597120 [email protected]
MSc Thesis International Development Studies (MID) Department of Sociology of Development and Change Thesis code: SDC-80433
Wageningen University, January 2016
In cooperation with: the Center for Development Programs in the Cordillera (CDPC)
Supervised by: dr. Elisabet Dueholm Rasch
Abstract
In resistance studies on resource conflict little attention has been paid to the micro-political ecology of resistance. This study addresses this gap by looking at a mining struggle carried out by an indigenous tribe in the mountains of the Cordillera, the Philippines, through a micro-political framework. The resistance carried out by members of the tribe is aimed at a large-scale gold and copper mining company. The form of resistance is that of rightful resistance. In brief, ‘rightful resistance’ means that people use the official legal and political channels of the government to make their claims (Li and O’Brien 1996). They use state power to combat corrupt government officials. This case study looks at how rightful resistance has successfully been used by members of the Guinaang tribe in preventing the Makilala mining company to mine in their place of residence. In particular, this study has analysed how the livelihood strategies of the people have influenced the way the people have engaged with the company. The findings of the study is the product of three months’ anthropological fieldwork in Guina-ang and surrounding barangays.
Keywords: resistance, resource conflict, livelihood, mining, micro-political ecology, Philippines, Kalinga
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Table of contents
Abstract i Table of contents ii-iv Maps v-viii Foreword ix Acronyms, abbreviations and local terms x
1. Introduction 1-3
2. Methodology 4-11 The CDPC 4-5 Research location and research sample 5-6 Interviews 6-8 Observation and participation 8-9 The researcher as research instrument 9-10 Data analysis 10 Limitations of research 11
3. Theoretical Framework 12-24 Resource conflicts and micro-political ecology 12-14 Livelihoods, livelihood strategies and livelihood styles 14-15 Limits of livelihood perspectives 15-16 Social relations and livelihood strategies 16-17 Livelihood strategies, social relations and mining 17-18 Rural resistance 18-22 Rightful resistance 22-24
4. Context 25-42 Part A: National context 25-35 Philippine economic and political context: the lowland majority 25-26 and the highland minority Land, mining and indigenous people in the Philippines 26-29 Peasant and indigenous people’s resistance in the Philippines 29-30 The first domain: infra-politics and open resistance 30-34 The influence of civil society on mining policy 32-33 Armed resistance against foreign mining corporations 33-34 The second and third domain: local politics and indigenous rights 33-35 Part B: Regional and local context 35-42 Local land conflicts: the Cordilleran situation 35-36 The Chico Dam Struggle 37-38
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Kalinga: local dynamics of conflict 38 The struggles of the Guinaang: history and present 38-40 Concluding remarks 40-42
5. The livelihoods of the Guinaang 42-73 Introduction 42 Geographical description 42 The Guinaang 42-43 The mapping of Guina-ang: climate and land use 43-46 The Guinaang tribe 46-47 Livelihood styles 47-52 Sharing, giving and bayanihan 47-49 Housing 50 Farming 50 Irrigation 50 Mining 51 Special occasions 51 Other forms of bayanihan 51 Agricultural intensification and extensification 52-55 Diversification 55-62 Small-scale mining practices of the Guinaang: 57-62 mining in Ginobat Migration 62-66 Social capital in the livelihood strategies of people 66-67 Levels of social organization: clans, barangay 67-73 community and tribe Clans 67-68 Barangay community 69-71 The tribe as social unit 71-73
6. The struggle against Makilala 74-106 Introduction 74 Mining history 74-77 Makilala Mining Company 75-77 Contestation over Makilala 77-86 Welcoming a Trojan horse or sitting on a pot of gold 77-78 Employment 78-80 Potential harmful effects of the company versus potential 80-83 beneficial economic developments by the company Trust and the belief in a harmless exploration phase 83-85
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Neutrals 85-86 Factors that influence the stance of people towards Makilala 86-91 Actions and conflict 91-98 The trajectory of the FPIC process 92-98 Explanation of stages 92-94 Account of the FPIC-process 94-96 After the Temporary Restraining Order (TRO) 96-98 Analysis of the conflict around Makilala from a 99-105 micro-political perspective Use and management of mineral resources 99-100 Contestation over access to and ownership over land 100-103 Contestation over legitimate authority 103-105
7. Conclusion and Discussion 105-110 Main findings 105-107 Resistance 106-107 Theoretical contribution 107-108 Comparison with other case studies 108-109 Suggestions and recommendations 109-110
8. Appendices 111-134
9. References cited 135-145
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Maps
Map 1: Cordillera. Source: Wikipedia Map 2: Kalinga. Source: Wikipedia
Map 3: Pasil. Source: Wikipedia
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Map 4: Guina-ang. Source: not recorded
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Map 5: Barangays of the Guinaang (1). Source: not recorded.
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Map 6: Barangays of the Guinaang (2). Source: Skibo 1999.
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Foreword
Proudly, I present to you, reader, this study. It would be bit of an overstatement to say that this study is about how the Guinaang defeated Makilala like a David that overthrew Goliath. Alone the fact that David stood on his own while the Guinaang were with many makes it a different story. Yet, there are some parallels. The Makilala Mining Company belongs to a large rich multinational mining company: Freeport McMoran, while the Guinaang tribe, while not really very poor, does not have that much economic power as the former. When Makilala had set its mind on the area where the Guinaang dwell, it was hard to see how the Guinaang could stop the mining company in its tracks. The company had a lot of money, the Guinaang people could use some money, and politicians also liked to have some money, so at first sight there appeared to be no problem for the company. Yet, there was. Namely, people from the tribe had never asked for the company to come, nor did they wish that it would come. Informed on mining disasters that had taken place in other places in the country, people of the tribe were very wary in letting the mining company enter. Others of the tribe disagreed and were of the opinion that the company would be very much welcome in the municipality. Conflict occurred. It is about this conflict and the struggle against Makilala that this thesis is about. The findings of this thesis are a result of three months fieldwork. The write-up of this thesis took a bit longer than this. Fortunately, there were times that I enjoyed the work. Credit where credit is due, I would like to give my sincere thanks to Elisabet Rasch in guiding me with this thesis. Without her guidance this thesis would have been a very messy and unstructured thesis. I would also like to thank all the people that have made this thesis possible in the first place. My cordial greetings to the CDPC staff: Jane, Julie, Ben, Merle, Anton, Jerry, Blessy, Glenn, Dina, Andy, Sibaen and all the others! And then last but not least the Guinaang folks. Thank you very much for your warmth and hospitality. Alex & Linda, Ahmboy & Ida and their children, lola Thomasa and Caridad, Lorenzo, Clenner, Geah, Veronica and Alicia and all the others who have been so kind to me, many thanks! I will hope you will have the strength and power to carry on the struggle if needed. And for everything else I wish you the best of luck. Till next time!
When thou eatest the labour of thy hands, Happy shalt thou be, and it shall be well with thee.
~ Psalm 128:2
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Acronyms, abbreviations and local terms
AFP Armed Forces of the Philippines BBMGI Batong Buhay Gold Mines, Incorporated CDPC Center for Development Programs in the Cordillera
CPA Cordillera People’s Alliance FPIC Free, Prior and Informed Consent FTAA Financial or Technical Assistance Agreement IPRA Indigenous People’s Rights Act IPs Indigenous People
LGU Local Government Unit MOA Memorandum of Agreement NCIP National Commission on Indigenous People NPA New People’s Army TRO Temporary Restraining Order barangay village level government (the smallest government unit of the Philippines) barrio rural village neighbourhood bodong peace pact carabao water buffalo kagawad barangay official kaingin swidden farming kayaw blood revenge pagta peace pact agreements pansit a Philippine dish of noodles (commonly served at birthday celebrations) polutan finger foods that goes with drinking alcoholic beverages pusipos a celebration and homage to parents of old age sibit blessing to the first grandchild when seeing his grandparents sitio subdivision of a barangay uma swiddens
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Introduction
From 1994 to 2004 there has been a rise of 84% in gold production by gold mining companies in heavily indebted poor countries and in 2004 72% of the global gold output came from these countries (Leyland 2005; World Gold Council 2005). This is mainly the effect of the revision of mineral codes all over the world to accommodate neoliberal policies. Consecutively, this has increased the contact between Western mining companies and indigenous people (Ali 2003; Ballard and Banks 2003). The presence of large-scale mining companies near local (indigenous) communities is more often than not detrimental for the well-being of these communities. Numerous studies have documented a loss of livelihood of the local population due to large-scale mining operations (Ayelazuno 2011; Bury 2002; Carstens and Hilson 2009; Downey et al. 2010: 430-436; Gamu et al. 2014: 12; Hilson 2009: 2; Holden et al. 2011: 141-143). More specifically, the presence of mining projects near local communities have resulted in, among others things, loss of land of people, displacement, environmental degradation, and the threat or actual use of violence of mining security forces and national armed forces against the local residents (Holden et al. 2011). Yet, the extraction of minerals in lower-income countries does not go unabated. People residing in (potential) ‘mining areas’ have protested mining projects as it threatens their way of living. This is in line with Polanyi’s theory of the double movement which poses that a counter-movement will rise that tries to protect itself against the disrupting effects of the market (Polanyi 1944: 130-134, 185). I will study one such countermovement in the form of resistance acted out by members of the Guinaang tribe against the Makilala Mining
Company. Makilala is a subsidiary of the American gold and copper mining company Freeport-McMoRan, which belongs to the tenth richest mining companies in the world
(Forbes 2015). Set against the background of their livelihoods, this thesis set out how people from the Guinaang tribe have reacted to a potential large-scale mining project by Makilala in their place. It examines how members from a relatively poor tribe have successfully resisted a rich multinational mining company. The case study presented in this thesis shows how by studying the livelihood strategies of people researchers can gain valuable insights in the forming and acting out of resistance movements. The central thesis of this study is that the way people perceive and engage with a mining company is largely embedded in and determined by people’s
1 livelihood strategies. The study contributes to the existing field of resistance studies by showing how analyses of grassroots resistance against large-scale resource exploitative companies are greatly helped by using a micro-political approach combined with a livelihood perspective. With this I pay heed to calls of scholars to ground analyses of resistance in micro-political ecology (Dougherty and Olsen 2014; Horowitz 2008, 2009; Jewitt 2008; Rasch and Köhne forthcoming; Theriault 2011). These calls are made because studies on resistance against massive resource extraction projects have tended to employ macrostructural frameworks and have mainly emphasized the general characteristics of resistance movements (Mittelman 2004; Moore 1993: 381; Rasch and Köhne forthcoming: 2). By taking a micro- political approach instead of a macro-political approach, one can also discern differences and tensions within resistance movements and local communities. Consecutively, by adopting a livelihood perspective one can understand these differences within a resistance movement or within a community. I will argue that how much a person depends on the natural environment, how it is valued and how much a person feels related to other community members informs his or her stance towards a mining company. As we will see, particularly crucial in this are the social relations that govern the access to natural resources and to other actors (also see Bebbington 1999; Bebbington and Perreault 1999; Bebbington et al. 2008). Therefore extra focus will be given to the element of social capital in the livelihoods of people. The main question of this research is: how do the people from the Guinaang tribe engage with a potential large-scale mining project in their place against the background of their livelihoods? To answer this question, the following sub-questions have been constructed: who are the Guinaang and what are their livelihoods? What is the mining history of the Guinaang and how is the current mining situation? And lastly, how do the Guinaang advocate against or in favour of Makilala? The first sub-question looks at the livelihoods and social organization of the Guinaang. The second sub-question looks specifically at the livelihood of mining in the lives of Guinaang. It looks at the meaning of mining in the everyday lives of the Guinaang. This is an important question as the Guinaang have had prior experience with large-scale mining companies and some of the people are engaged in small- scale mining. The last question then looks at how the people have engaged with the company and links this to the findings of the first two questions. The findings of this study are based on a three-months’ fieldwork conducted in and
2 around the barangays home to the Guinaang. By then, the ‘battle’ against Makilala had already been fought. However, the struggle continued as Makilala and its supporters still wanted to push through their plans. This study then looks both at the continuing struggle and the struggle that had been carried out prior to the fieldwork.
In line with other studies on resistance, this study has found that the resistance of the Guinaang has been an amalgam of forms of resistance, including but not limited to the countermovement resistance as put forward by Polanyi (see Caouette and Turner 2009; Rasch and Köhne forthcoming). It is a mix of countermovement resistance (Polanyi 1944), counter- hegemony (Gramsci 1971), everyday forms of resistance (Scott 1985) and rightful resistance (Li and O’Brien 1996). These types of resistance will be more elaborately discussed in the theoretical framework chapter. The structure of this thesis is organized in the following way: first the methodology of this study will be presented. Thereafter, the theoretical framework of this study will be discussed. In order of appearance I will discuss: resource conflicts and micro-political ecology, livelihood perspectives, social capital and, lastly, rural resistance, particularly rightful resistance. The thesis then continues with the context of this study. I will situate the case study in its social, historical and spatial context. Moving from macro- to micro-level, I will discuss the national, regional, provincial and local context. Topics that will be discussed in the context chapter are Philippine policies on mining and indigenous people, and resistance against large-scale mining and other large-scale projects in the Philippines. Having discussed this, the findings of the field work will be presented. The first chapter will look at the livelihoods and micro-politics of the Guinaang. The second chapter will discuss the mining struggle and relates this to the livelihoods of the Guinaang. The thesis ends with a discussion and conclusion of the findings.
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Methodology
This research is characterized by qualitative ethnological fieldwork. This qualitative approach has been adopted so to understand the livelihood decisions of people, their interactions with other people and their perception on Makilala as embedded in their sociocultural context.
While a quantitative research could have given more information on the distribution of the livelihood practices and perceptions of people on Makilala, the main focus of the research was to unravel the motivations behind these practices and perceptions. Therefore, a qualitative research design has been constructed, as this allows for interpretations on context and on processes (Bryman 2008: 23-24). The results of the study then, is an outcome of three months observing, participating and interviewing in Guina-ang, the surrounding barangays of Guina-ang and Ginobat from March to May 2015. Prior to these three months, a preliminary visit has been paid in November 2014. During this visit the residents have been informed about the research. For myself, the researcher, it was an opportunity to become acquainted with the research location. Access to the site has been facilitated by the CDPC. The chapter is organized as follows: first I will explain how I got access to the field work location through the CDPC. I will then talk about the choice for the research location and the informants. After this I will discuss the research methods which I have employed, namely interviewing, observation and participation. This will be followed by a brief self- reflection on me as an ethnographic researcher. A short word on the way the data has been analysed is next. Lastly, I will discuss some limitations of the research.
The CDPC
It was through the CDPC that I got to know about the Guinaang tribe and their mining struggle. The CDPC is a local non-governmental organization that promotes and advocates genuine sustainable and autonomous development for the people of the Cordillera. It works together with local grassroots organizations. One of the campaigns of the CDPC is raising awareness of the negative effects of large-scale mining and promoting sustainable small- scale mining. The CDPC has been funded by the Belgian NGO New World and the provincial government of East Flanders since the 1990s. During the time of the fieldwork the staff of the CDPC existed of 34 members, of which 13 are located in the regional office in Baguio City. Activities of the CDPC include raising awareness among the indigenous peoples of their marginalization by the national government, providing trainings for the benevolence of their
4 autonomous development, promoting sustainable agricultural practices, helping in building infrastructural projects and aiding in campaigns and protests of the indigenous people of the Cordillera. During the time of the field work, Guina-ang was one of the service areas of the CDPC. Although the research was facilitated by the CDPC, I have worked independently from the CDPC. The CDPC had been at my side in Guina-ang just for one week. However, prior to the research, I have followed an internship with the CDPC for four months. I have visited different villages in the Cordillera with staff of the CDPC. Part of my assignment was to contribute to a draft on the small-scale mining situation in the Cordillera as well as to contribute data on large-scale mining. On the one hand, the CDPC has provided me with a great deal of information on small-scale mining and large-scale mining issues in the
Cordillera and the Philippines. On the other hand, I am aware that the collaboration with the CDPC has also meant that my perceived identity as independent researcher has been compromised somewhat; not to mention that my outlook on mining has been influenced by the CDPC. First, with regards to my outlook on mining, I do not belief that the CDPC has influenced my perception to such an extent that the results presented here accommodate the views of the CDPC. I already had a sceptical view of large-scale mining, the CDPC just made me more sceptical on small-scale mining as well. Second, and more important, with regards to my identity as ‘independent’ researcher, I know that some people have associated me with the CDPC and with ‘NGOs’ in general. This is problematic because some people in favour of Makilala are aversive of NGOs. Therefore, my access to these people could have been limited.
Yet, I did not experience that people were reluctant to talk to me. Indeed, some people even openly expressed their disapproval of NGOs or the NPA to me.
Research location and research sample The Guinaang live in six barangays of the municipality of Pasil. These are Guina-ang, Galdang,
Bagtayan, Pugong, Malucsad and Dangtalan. The tribe (the people described themselves as a tribe) consists of 3000 to 4000 people (Pasil local government unit 2015). The main focus of this research has been barangay Guina-ang. About 900 people live here. Initially my plan was to focus solely on Guina-ang. Yet, for different reasons I have extended my research to the other barangays as well. First, during the research I had discovered that each barangay had a different ‘character’. This became more clear to me the longer the research progressed. I discovered that most of the people in barangay Guina-ang were against Makilala, but that in
5 the other barangays the ratio of anti- and pro-Makilala was different. To also include the voices of the other people I have also held interviews in the other barangays, mainly in barangays Pugong and Malucsad. I was told that many people who were residing here were in favour of Makilala. I had the luck that the barangays were situated close to each other and that I weas able stay the night in the other barangays. I do not hold the claim that the research represent the voices of the whole tribe. For this, the research has been too limited. First, the time of fieldwork was only limited to three months. Second, it is safe to say that, except for barangay Guina-ang, the voices of the residents of the other barangays are underrepresented in the research. This is especially so for barangay Dangtalan. I have not conducted interviews with people from this barangay.
First, limited time had me focus on the other barangays. Second, I had gathered that this barangay was a bit more removed from the Guinaang tribe as a whole. For example, the barangay shared some peace pacts with the Guinaang tribe, but also had peace pacts with other tribes on its own. So I chose to exclude this barangay from my research in order to focus more on the other barangays. All in all, two months of the fieldwork was focussed on
Guina-ang, with occasionally a trip to one of the other barangays, and one month was focussed more on the barangays other than Guina-ang like Pugong, Malucsad and Galdang. Additionally to fieldwork in the barangays I have made two trips to the mining sites in Ginobat. These were short stays of approximately five days. Here, I have observed small-scale mining practices and have talked with miners. I have visited all mining sites where people were active: Bolloy Alan, Umbog and Magadgad.
Interviews The main findings of this research are based on interviews with the people. The people from the tribe speak the local language of Guinaang Kalinga. Yet, I have met many people who were able to speak English well enough for having a conversation with each other. Occasionally, a local resident has helped me with translations to and from English when deemed necessary. Still, for most of the time I have talked to the people one on one. I have tried to speak with a diverse set of people as possible. I have talked to young, middle-aged and elderly people, men and women, farmers and government employees. Most importantly,
I have talked with people that strongly protested Makilala, people that were in favour of Makilala and people that had an opinion that was more in the middle. In total I have
6 interviewed at least forty people. None of the interviews I have recorded. For reasons of openness I only made notes during the interview. These notes I then quickly worked out after the interview. The interviews were guided by a general list of topics that have been adjusted throughout the course of the fieldwork. On the basis of this topic lists I also actively searched for informants that could answer the gaps in my findings. Getting access to informants for interviews was not perceived as difficult. In the initial phase of the research, walking around in the neighbourhood was enough to find someone to talk to. Many times, the people started to talk to me, for example by inviting me for coffee in their house. People also referred me to other people I could talk to, for example people that knew more about the mining issue and people that were good in English. Most of the interviews had more the form of a natural conversation than that of a planned and structured interview. I belief that this was for the good. I had the feeling the people felt comfortable talking and were open to share their thoughts and opinions with me. A large part of the research is informed by key informants. These informants I developed a friendship with and were able to provide a lot of information on livelihoods, customs and traditions and on the mining struggle. The advantage of key informants is that more personal and ‘politically incorrect’ thoughts can be conveyed. Furthermore, things said in earlier interviews can be corrected, seen in a different light or elaborated on by the informant. In all cases I had explained to the people that I was doing anthropological research.
Quickly word was out that I was doing research on the customs and traditions of the people, and also a bit on their livelihoods. For security reasons, and also at the recommendation of the CDPC, I did not fully disclose that the research was focused on the struggle against Makilala. In asking about the struggle I would just ask for it in the passing, just as another topic in the conversation. This was not so much done when talking with anti-Makilala people, as with people who were in favour of Makilala. I belief that by not directly stating that I wanted to know about the Makilala issue, the conversation had a more natural flow than if I would have stated it from the start. Instead of talking about Makilala, I would talk about the livelihoods of the people in general and in some way or another the topic of Makilala would come up. This withholding of information of my research posed an ethical dilemma. On the one hand, I belief that a researcher should give full disclosure of the scope and nature of the research, but on the other hand I also belief that the researcher should strive to get as much
7 information as possible. Still, the well-being of the informant should have first priority. Yet, I feel that I did not cross any ethical boundary. First, no direct harm has been done to informants. Second, I will remedy this withholding of information by providing the research results to the whole community. Further, all parts of the thesis pertaining to any sensitive information on the mining issue have carefully been looked at. The informants are protected in their identity by using pseudonyms or by not using any name at all. I also have looked carefully if in some way or another the informant could be detected from the information I have presented. Further, I belief that if an informant did not want me to know certain information he or she would not have spoken about it to me. It was very clear for the informants that I was making notes during the interviews and the informants knew that the information would be used in my research. Therefore if they did not want certain information to end up in the research, or if they did not want me to know certain information at all, I belief that they would withhold it from me.
Observation and participation
To the extent possible I tried to couple my findings of the interviews with observations of the daily practices of the people. When people talked about watering their fields at night, I went out and accompanied them watering their fields. When people talked about kaingin (slash and burn practices), I went out and helped them with this. When people were talking about small-scale mining, I would go out to the site (a five hours hike) and practice small-scale mining. Apart from that it helped me to better understand the livelihoods of the people, and it being a plain fun experience, not just observing but also participating in the practices helped me in getting a better bond with the people. The people highly respected it if I would do the work they were also doing. The same goes with food customs and certain activities during occasions like dancing and singing. I eagerly ate anything that people would serve me
(cicadas, dog meat, bat meat) and I would also participate in salidsid, a kind of courtship dance or sing a song when it was requested (which, should be mentioned, was a lot of fun). This participant-observation had greatly helped me in understanding the culture of the people and to embed the livelihoods of the people in their culture. Without this, the research would not be as ethnographically rich as it is.
I would like to add that because the study is a case study embedded in a cultural, social, geographical, historical context the findings are not directly generalizable to other
8 locales (Bryman 2008: 51; Patton 1999: 1198). Yet, the richness of the ethnographic description has contributed to the internal validity of the study. By this I mean that what the study had aimed to analyse, the livelihoods and the social relations of the Guinaang, has been studied thoroughly (Boeije 2010: 170). Still, the findings, when coupled to theories on rural livelihoods and rural resistance, makes possible a comparison between case studies. Bearing the contextual factors in mind, different case studies can be compared to each other to find patterns of similarity which can inform other analyses of forms of resistance (Boeije 2010: 181).
The researcher as research instrument
Because the researcher plays such a big role in gathering, analysing and interpreting the data, the role of the researcher will be briefly discussed here. Prior to the research in Kalinga, I have visited the Cordillera twice. The first time was as a tourist. I had visited different places of the Cordillera like Banaue, Maligcong and Sagada. That time I had travelled the Cordillera mountains for two or three weeks. More importantly, the second time that I visited the
Cordillera was for my bachelor research. I did research on small-scale mining in Kabayan, Benguet among Ibaloi indigenous people for a period of two months. Although the Ibaloi are a different ethnic group than the Guinaang, many similarities can be discerned. Indeed, both groups are part of the larger ethnic group of Igorot (people from the mountains), an amalgam of indigenous people in the Cordillera. Through this bachelor research I was already accustomed to certain Igorot cultural practices like the butchering of pigs on special occasions and the drinking of gin among men. I am convinced that this has eased my entry with the Guinaang. In addition, I was born to a Philippine mother. Although I do not possess the ability to speak or understand Tagalog (the national language of the Philippines), the fact that I am half Filipino was for many people a good sign. When people introduced me to other people they would not forget to mention that I was half Filipino. In short, being half Filipino and having experienced life in the Cordillera before, has made it relatively easy for me to blend with the people. Needless to say, this has been beneficial for the quality of this study, as things ran smoother than if these two backgrounds were not part of my personal baggage. Additionally, being a male researcher also had some advantages. For one thing, although a woman could have gained access to the mining site, I belief it would be looked upon a bit more strangely. The same with drinking sessions with men, a woman would simply
9 seem a little out of place in such a drinking circle. On the other hand, I did not feel that being a man had significantly limited my rapport with women. In short, I belief that my identity as a half-Filipino man accustomed to Igorot practices has enabled me to gather slightly more (confidential) information than if I would be a foreign woman not yet familiar with Igorot customs and practices. One element that had limited me as a researcher was that I did not master the local language. Therefore, I felt that I missed an important part of the daily interaction between people. What were they talking about in their daily conversations? What was important for them in their daily lives? These are questions I had more difficulty answering. I would often ask people what they or others were talking about at the moment, but then if they would tell me, I still felt that I missed the whole message and the nuances in their conversations. Additionally, it was quite tiresome to constantly ask about what people were talking about, as well as not being able to talk with people directly. Some of my informants also felt a bit insecure about their English and I belief this has inhibited them sometimes to speak more freely about what was on their minds. All in all, however, I belief this was not a major limitation as still enough people were sufficiently proficient in their English.
Data analysis The data has been analysed by using a coding system. After jot notes have been converted to field notes, these notes were structurally analysed to discern certain patterns as well as deviations. Throughout the fieldwork the coding system have been adjusted to fit new findings of the research. Categories as informed by theory such as groupings of livelihood strategies as well as emic categories obtained from the field such as bayanihan and local organizations as Guinasla have been used. The encodings were grouped under each sub question. To make sure the data was secure and safe, a back-up of the notes had been made on USB stick and the Web. Correspondence with my supervisor gave extra insights to findings made during the course of the research and a two weeks period away from the field gave me the opportunity to distance myself from the field and look at the research findings with a clearer look.
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Limitations research Although I feel the research has carried out rather successfully, I would like to point out some limitations of the research. First, I as researcher was not present during the actual struggle against Makilala during the Free, Prior and Informed Consent process. This has made me rely on reports of reconstructions of the events. Missing the actual struggle has meant that I do not know exactly how relations between villagers have been played out. Relying on recollections of informants of the events is detrimental to the reliability of the research as the memories of informants are coloured, biased and fragmented. However being present during the heat of the struggle also would have its own negative effects on the reliability of the research. It is likely that during the struggle I could easily have sided with and have been associated with the anti-Makilala group. This would have meant that I would have had less opportunity to talk with pro-Makilala people, and if I would talk to them the information provided could have been limited and also coloured. An additional limitation of the research is that all my information is biased in the sense that it is analysed against the background of the success of the struggle, it would be different if the struggle had failed in stopping
Makilala. Visiting the fieldwork location approximately a year after the heat of the moment of the struggle also has its advantages. It can be argued that it had granted me better access to controversial topics. This is because there were arguably less tensions as the situation has cooled down and people had become more at ease with the outcome of the struggle. Therefore, people would likely speak more openly about the struggle.
Another limitation is that I have not talked to the leading advocate of Makilala. While I was able to talk with the leaders of the resistance movement, I was not able to talk to the leader of the pro-Makilala group. The main reason for this is that he was residing in Tabuk city and not in Pasil. Further, my findings have overrepresented the anti-Makilala group, as the number of interviews with Makilala supporters have been limited compared to that of the
Makilala opponents.
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Theoretical Framework
In this chapter the three central conceptual frameworks of this study: micro-political ecology, livelihood perspectives and rightful resistance will be discussed. The outline of this chapter is as follows: first I will present how natural resource conflicts are discussed in public debates.
After this brief sketch I will explain how micro-political ecology can serve as a useful framework for looking at natural resource conflicts between companies and local people. Thereafter I will argue that a greater understanding of local resistance can be reached by looking at the livelihood strategies of people. For this I will describe what ‘the livelihood approach’ is and how livelihood approaches have been discussed by scholars. I will then particularly focus on the role of social relations in livelihoods. The concept of ‘social capital’ will be explained and its usefulness in an analysis of local resistance in resource conflicts. The chapter ends with a brief overview of theoretical approaches to resistance and will explain the choice for the approach to resistance that will be used in this study, namely that of ‘rightful resistance’.
Resource conflicts and micro-political ecology Public debates on land deals concerning large-scale projects for the exploitation of natural resources, be it about minerals or other resources, are quite polarized (Borras and Franco 2013: 1724). On one side are those opposed to these projects and on the other side are those who are in favour of these projects. In the case of the former, it is argued that the disadvantages of large-scale projects would fully outweigh any possible benefits of it. People on this side of the debate argue that if local people are fully informed about the implications of projects for the exploitation of natural resources they would reject these projects. In the case of the latter, it is argued that the investment will bring a range of opportunities to poor people they would otherwise never be able to enjoy (Borras and Franco 2013: 1724). The problem with casting the debate in these terms is that it overlooks the reality of the people on the ground who often do not see it this black and white. People that are affected or could potentially be affected by land deals and natural resource exploitation projects are not a homogeneous group, and are therefore not uniformly in favour or against corporate projects, nor are they manifestly split in groups who are in favour of these projects and who are against these projects. Rather, there will be an array of different responses,
12 because each individual will perceive the situation differently (Borras and Franco 2013: 1724; Horowitz 2011: 1381). These responses are based on a whole range of variable factors like social, political, cultural, economic, historical and geographical factors. The problem is that, how these factors influence the perception and actions of people are not well understood
(Borras and Franco 2013: 1724). In studies on resistance against massive resource extraction scholars have tended to employ a macrostructural framework and to emphasize general characteristics of resistance movements while overlooking these contextual factors (Mittelman 2004; Moore 1993: 381; Rasch and Köhne forthcoming: 2). Additionally, by overlooking the micro-politics of actors within resistance movements, scholars have missed how the everyday politics of these actors have shaped the way resistance movements have engaged with multinational companies and the state (Rasch and Köhne forthcoming: 3; Theriault 2011: 1418). By using a micro-political ecology approach instead of a macro-political approach, one can gain more insight in (1) the contextual factors that informs people’s view on exploitation projects and (2) the motivations of actors within resistance movements. Doing this can move the discussion beyond the polarized debate as presented above. This is so because micro-political ecology has as subject “resource conflicts within and between communities, and between communities and the state [and companies], while analysing these conflicts within their broader, historical, social, political and economic context” (Horowitz 2008: 261). Micro-political ecology differs from political ecology, in that it has a greater focus on local particularities and it explicitly adopts an ‘actor-oriented’ approach (Horowitz 2008: 260). By doing this it can uncover intra-community conflicts that more macro-political analyses may glance over. In this study I will use a livelihood approach to better understand the micro-politics of resource conflicts. Micro-political ecology and livelihood perspectives have rarely been explicitly linked in resistance studies. I argue that this is a missed opportunity, because linking these two theoretical approaches can lead to greater explanatory analyses of resource conflicts. By looking at the livelihood strategies of people one can gain crucial insights in the motivations and perceptions of actors involved in resource conflicts. A focus on livelihoods is particularly relevant as it looks how the people themselves perceive the environment and use the resources which companies want to extract. Hence, I will argue that how people perceive
13 the possible arrival of a resource exploitation project and how they engage with the actors that have a stake in this project will depend a great deal on their livelihood strategies.
Livelihoods, livelihood strategies and livelihood styles
In reviewing livelihood studies, Scoones (2009: 172) has found that the concept ‘livelihood’ has been used as a flexible term. It can be related to (1) locales (rural or urban livelihoods), (2) occupations (farming, pastoral or fishing livelihoods), (3) social difference (gendered, age- defined livelihoods), (4) directions (livelihood pathways and trajectories) and (5) dynamic patterns (sustainable and resilient livelihoods) (Scoones 2009: 172). This study is preoccupied with rural livelihoods of people practising different occupations (farming, small-scale mining, politics) and with people from all ages and gender. With regards to the direction of livelihoods it will employ the concept of ‘livelihood styles’ (which will be explained below), and with regards to its sustainability it will take the perspectives as communicated by the people themselves. With the term ‘livelihood’ this study refers to the means by which people gain a living (Chambers and Conway 1992: 9–12). More important than a rather static notion of ‘livelihood’ which consists of certain assets and capabilities, are the ways by which people actually make a living. For this the term ‘livelihood strategy’ will be used. A livelihood strategy can be used in two ways. First, it can be used by a person to improve his or her livelihood (and that of his friends and kin). Second, it can be used by a person to protect and secure his or her livelihood (and that of his friends and kin) (Nooteboom 2003: 33). In general, with regards to rural livelihoods, people can pursue three broad livelihood strategies. These are (1) agricultural intensification and extensification, (2) livelihood diversification and (3) migration (Scoones 1998). By agricultural intensification a person increases the overall output of the land he or she uses, while agricultural extensification relates to the expansion of land. Livelihood diversification is the seeking of additional or alternative income earning activities besides farming. Migration is seeking a livelihood outside of one’s place of origin. These three strategies can be combined, either by an individual or by a household (Scoones 1998: 9). The term ‘livelihood strategies’ implies that people purposefully and consciously make decisions about which livelihood trajectory they will pursue. While this may be true to a certain extent, scholars have found that the decisions people actually make depends to a
14 large extent on their existing context (Arce and Hebinck 2002; Nooteboom 2003; Ontita 2007). People do not start from scratch in deciding what livelihood they want to have. Rather they are embedded in a historical, spatial and social setting and are likely to choose among existing repertoires available to them. Therefore, in addition to the concept of ‘livelihood strategies’, this study uses the concept of ‘livelihood styles’. When one common strategy is practiced out be a group of people this is referred to as a ‘livelihood style’ (Arce and Hebink 2002; Nooteboom 2003). A livelihood style can be understood as a distinguishable pattern of actions and orientations concerning the way people make a living which is embedded in a local context (Nooteboom 2003: 41). By using the concept of ‘livelihood styles’ one can analyse livelihood strategies beyond the level of the individual and the household.
Additionally, access to social institutions can be linked to livelihood styles. This is because a livelihood style encompasses both individual strategic choices and social institutions that influence these choices (de Haan and Zoomers 2005: 41).
Limits of livelihood perspectives Livelihood perspectives gained momentum in the second half of the 1990s when the formulaic solutions of the Washington Consensus began to be challenged. Besides being popular amongst scholars, livelihood approaches were widely used by development practitioners to ameliorate the situation of rural poor people (Scoones 2009: 176-179).
However, Scoones (2009) writes that livelihood approaches have become less popular amongst development practitioners and scholars alike. He sets out that, on the one hand development practitioners argued that the approach was too complex to use for policies and that instead more sober economic analyses were preferred and that on the other hand scholars argued that the approach was not inclusive enough as it paid too little attention to power and politics and it was so much focused on localities that it did not sufficiently take into account the structural forces of class and capital (Scoones 2009: 181). Furthermore, it was argued that the approach lost sight of more long-term process such as agrarian change (Scoones 2009: 181-182). De Haan and Zoomers (2005) also have found some pitfalls with the livelihood approaches that had been used. Their critique is in line with the argument of Scoones that livelihood studies had neglected the factor of power and politics. They argue that more
15 attention should be paid to (1) the conceptualization of the problem of access and (2) to the link between decision-making and livelihood opportunities (de Haan and Zoomers 2005: 27- 28). To deal with the problems mentioned above, I will pay particular attention to the role of social relations in the livelihood strategies of people and adopt a micro-political ecology approach. By adopting a micro-political approach, I particularly pay attention to intra- community conflict, this also concerns conflict over decision-making mechanisms, thereby I will pay attention to power and politics that have been glanced over in past livelihood studies (Horowitz 2008: 260). The centrality of social relations in this study is specifically linked to questions of access to natural resources. By paying special attention to the role of social relations, this study addresses a gap in livelihood studies concerning mechanisms of access, exclusion and livelihood opportunities, that have been found by various authors (Bebbington 1999; Ribot and Peluso 2003; Scoones 2009; Nooteboom 2003). Bebbington (1999: 2023) has argued that “access to others actors is conceptually prior to access to material resources in the determination of livelihood strategies”. In other words, social relationships, as a central element in livelihood strategies, are the main mechanisms to which resources are claimed and distributed. Social relationships and access to actors are also instrumental in influencing state actors and other influential actors that govern the control and use of resources (Bebbington 1999: 2023). Hence, the importance of social relations for the way a livelihood is formed and access to natural resources is governed asks for a more deeper analysis of the role of social relationships in resource conflicts.
Social relations and livelihood strategies In addition of a livelihood being composed of income generating activities and material assets, it is also composed of social institutions, social relations and immaterial assets (Carney
1998; Ellis 1998). These social institutions and social relations are essential factors in a person’s livelihood. They can positively contribute to a person’s livelihood by his or her inclusion in certain groups, but at the same time it can exclude or marginalize a person and it may be detrimental to his or her livelihood (Bebbington 2007: 156; Cleaver 2005: 903-904). I will refer to social relations and institutions through the term ‘social capital’. Here, with social capital I mean the social relations of a person and the resources that can be accessed through these relations (Bebbington 2007: 156). The term ‘social capital’ is related
16 to other forms of ‘capital’ (Bebbington 1999: 398). Indeed, social capital plays a central role in the possibility of access to the other ‘capitals’ by which a livelihood is built up, namely: human, natural, cultural/symbolic and productive/economic capital (Bebbington 2007). Human capital refers to the skills and knowledge of a person. Natural capital refers to natural resources. Cultural capital refers to cultural identity and meaning, while symbolic capital refers to social status. Productive and economic capital refer to tangible and liquid assets like income, savings and land (Bebbington 1999; Bourdieu 1986 in Horowitz 2008: 260; Scoones 1998). In their livelihood strategies, people may have to give up one part of a capital in exchange for an improvement in one of the other capitals (Bebbington 1999: 2028, 2033). For example, when facing a shortage of money, people may choose to give land to a mining company (natural capital), in exchange for money (productive capital). This money they can then use, for example, to pay college fees so that one of their children can go to school and learn skills and gain knowledge (human capital).
Livelihood strategies, social relations and mining
The way a person perceives a mining company, either as a threat or as an opportunity, informs the way he or she takes action against or in favour of it. On the one hand, it could be seen as a threat when the mine is not regarded as a stable source for the livelihoods of the current and the next generations, for example because of its potential destructive effects to the environment. On the other hand, it could be seen as an opportunity to enhance the community’s livelihoods, for example by bringing employment in a locale where many people are unemployed. Both perceptions can be followed by action. The first perception of a mining company can lead to protest and resistance, while the second perception can lead to acquiescence or promotion of the company. I will analyse the ways people advocate against or in favour of large-scale mining against the background of their livelihoods and livelihood strategies. I will do this through the livelihood framework as put forward by Bebbington (1999), see figure 1 and 2 for a schematic overview of this framework. What makes this framework interesting for mining conflicts is that it not only examines the way people make a living, but also how people use their assets (1) to make living meaningful and (2) to challenge the structures under which one makes a living. This is relevant for this study because in opposing mining companies, (1) people often attribute a different meaning to land and water than mining companies do, and
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(2) when opposing mining companies people can simultaneously oppose the regulatory structures that are in place for mining companies by using politico-legal institutions to assert their rights and claim access to land, water and natural resources. The framework is also relevant in the context of resource conflicts, and thus mining conflicts, because it shows that people often have to make trade-offs when making livelihood choices. By using the framework one can, as Bebbington (1999: 2031) writes, “[make] explicit the trade-offs [that people make] between economic growth, human development, social integration and environmental integrity that are implied by different development options”. These trade-offs are interpreted by each individual in his or her own way. When a mining company plans to come to a locality to mine, some may see opportunities while others may see threats. Subsequently, this determines whether or not people make a stance against a mining company and whether people will actively promote the company or just be indifferent to it. How people react to the company’s plans can be the decisive factor for which ‘development option’ will ultimately be played out, that of large-scale mining or that of other forms of development, for example more local based forms of development.
A last argument for the relevance of this framework is that the concepts of ‘access’ and ‘social capital’ are central elements of the framework (Bebbington 1999: 2023). Through this case study I will attest to the argument that what kind of relationships one has with other actors determines for a major part to what extent one has access to material resources and what kind of livelihood strategy one pursues. This consequently determines largely one’s position towards development options. If such an development option comes in the form of a mining company, then the stance one takes against such a company can be traced back, for a large part, to the livelihood strategy of an individual and his or her social relationships (also see Smith 1989: 11-18). Particularly, social relationships can be instrumental in defending natural resources from other users, e.g. mining companies (Bebbington 1999: 2037). It can give fora for people to discuss the issue at hand, help people in having a say in the decision process on mining and form the basis for social mobilization against mining plans (Anguelovski 2011; Bebbington 1999: 2034-2035).
Rural resistance
So far I have discussed how I will look at the mining struggle that is the subject of this study. I have set out the central elements that informs my analysis of the struggle, namely, micro-
18 political ecology, livelihood strategies and styles, and social relations (social capital). One last important subject to discuss is how this study is situated in the broader field of ‘resistance studies’. With regards to the concept of ‘resistance’ I will employ the definition as used by Chandra (2015: 565), namely:
“to resist is to minimally apprehend the conditions of one’s subordination, to endure or withstand those conditions in everyday life, and to act with sufficient intention and purpose to negotiate power relations from below in order to rework them in a more favourable or emancipatory direction”.
I would like to highlight two elements of this definition. First, the element in the definition that states ‘to endure or withstand those conditions in everyday life’. This element is particularly applicable to this case study because I argue that resistance is situated in the livelihood strategies which people practice out in their everyday life. Second, the element ‘to negotiate power relations from below’ is worth highlighting, because my research is focused on grassroots resistance, resistance of a relative poor community against a rich multinational company. Thus, power relations have to be negotiated from below in order to become more favourable for the people. This definition of resistance as put forth by Chandra (2015) has much to owe to the master theorists of resistance, namely Antonio Gramsci, Karl Polanyi and James Scott
(Caouette and Turner 2009; Chin and Mittelman 1997; Mittelman 1998). I will now briefly discuss the theories of resistance as put forward by these scholars. Gramsci, with his Prison Notebooks (1929–1935), contributed to ‘resistance studies’ by putting forward a framework that went beyond analyses of social change which were chiefly concerned with economic determinants (Chin and Mittelman 1997: 27). Gramsci coined the concepts of ‘hegemony’ and ‘counter-hegemony’. Hegemony, as described by Gramsci, is a process by which dominant classes constitute social identities, relations and structures on the basis of asymmetrical distribution of power and influence. Hegemony can be embedded in the institutions of civil society like family, schools and church, and is established when it emanates from the subordinated people themselves instead of it being actively imposed by the dominant classes (Chin and Mittelman 1997: 27). Hegemony can also be challenged and resisted, Gramsci calls this counter-hegemony. In the reading of Gramsci, counter-hegemonic
19 acts are characterized by openly declared collective actions. Gramsci’s reading of resistance with his insights on dominance and subordination has contributed to resistance studies by forming the basis for many other studies on resistance. Yet, one element of Gramsci’s notion of resistance that makes it less applicable to today’s forms of resistance is that it is mainly concerned with resistance against the state and dominant groups of civil society with the ultimate aim to seize control of the state (Chin and Mittelman 1997: 27; Turner and Caouette 2009: 10). However, contemporary forms of resistance may also have other targets than the state, for example multinational companies. Furthermore, whereas Gramsci spoke of ‘national-popular’ movements that can probe weak points in façades of power to resist state power, today, other forms of alliance are possible and can be effective against hegemonic forces (Chin and Mittelman 1997: 28; Mittelman 1998: 851). To have a more inclusive understanding of resistance the theory as put forward by Polanyi can be of use. Polanyi has contributed to ‘resistance studies’ in at least two important ways. The first is that Polanyi looked at resistance against deepening capitalism. If the expansion and deepening of capitalism can be seen as a ‘movement’, the resistance that occurs to counter it can be understood as a countermovement or double-movement (Polanyi 1944). The second important contribution is that Polanyi related political economy to ecology. Polanyi was greatly concerned with the disembeddedness of markets from society and nature and argued that nature should be brought back into political economy (Mittelman 1998: 852). He had further shown that the economy had historically been governed by forms of reciprocity, redistribution and household relations and not vice-versa (Polanyi 1968). What makes Polanyi’s way of looking at resistance especially valuable to this study is that ‘he was above all concerned with the specific institutional arrangements by which particular societies ensure their livelihood and the ways they protect themselves against “the traumatic effects of the market”’ (Mittelman 1998: 852). Naturally, that is precisely the focus of this study. What makes Polanyi’s take on resistance less attractive is that it has the tendency to look at resistance in the form of countermovements that can be seen as one more or less homogenous whole and as being well organized. However, naturally, movements in itself can be highly fragmentized and divided. Related to this is that people may voice dissent and protest in more subtle and covert ways rather than through openly declared resistance (Chin and Mittelman 1997: 30). James Scott has focussed on these more covert modes of resistance.
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Scott’s theoretical view on resistance is that of ‘everyday forms of resistance’ or ‘infrapolitics’. This approach has been studied extensively by Scott (1985, 1990) and Kerkvliet (1990, 2005) in their studies on peasant societies in Southeast-Asia. In contrast to Gramsci and Polanyi, these authors have explicitly demonstrated quotidian forms of resistance. Scott, for example, has studied everyday covert forms of resistance, like labourers secretly stealing a portion of grain from a farmer’s field (Turner and Caouette 2009: 11). These forms of resistance which are often done in secrecy, can question authority and unequal power relations when overt action is not deemed safe (Scott 1990). Resistance as discussed by these authors is mainly resistance against authority of elites such as landlords and employers. By studying these ‘hidden transcripts’ of resistance, one can grasp the internal politics of subaltern groups and understand the motivations of actors which lie behind their acts of resistance. This is a great strength of this theoretical approach, and will also be used for this study. A pitfall of the approach however, is that it is questionable how these forms of resistance can lead to real change for the actors that engage in them (Mittelman 1998: 851).1 While certainly, these micro forms of resistance can form ‘seedbeds’ for overt resistance and can constitute a necessary ‘springboard’ for larger forms of resistance (Amoore 2005; Kerkvliet 2005; Scott 1990), it remains unclear as to how and when some of these micro resistance struggles turn into open contestation while other struggles remain hidden and limited in scope (Mittelman 1998: 851). Following Chandra (2015), I argue that when people are negating the unequal power relations they are part of, instead of negotiating the terms of these power relations, people may risk being stuck in the situation they find themselves in (Chandra 2015: 565; Mittelman 1998: 851). Having discussed these three theoretical approaches on resistance it has become clear that each approach has its merits and limitations. Gramsci framework of hegemony and counter-hegemony is useful, because it integrates elements of political theory. Its limitation is that it did not really, and arguably could not, account for globalization processes which makes that resistance is not only played out against the state but also against capital, for example in the form of multinational companies. Polanyi’s insights are useful, because it links the politico-economic with the social and with ecology, thereby it connects to political
1 Another pitfall, that I have left out for the sake of brevity, is that too much focus on forms of everyday resistance risks overlooking everyday forms of collaboration. White (1986: 60), for example, in the case of Vietnam, has identified varying alliances between different sectors, like state and peasantry against local elite and peasantry and local elite against the state. 21 ecology. However, it is just one step short in connecting to micro-political ecology. For this, the theoretical approach of Scott and Kerkvliet is valuable as it looks specifically at the going about of actors in their everyday life on the micro level and can therefore be connected to the livelihood approach. Yet, the approach of ‘everyday forms of resistance’ has one limitation which makes it not entirely compatible with this case study, and that is that by focussing so much on the ‘hidden transcripts’ of resistance it is overlooking more open declared forms of collective action. Therefore, in addition to combining the three abovementioned approaches, I will take an additional approach, namely that of rightful resistance as developed by Li and O’Brien (1996).
Rightful resistance Li and O’Brien have identified two forms of resistance. The first is ‘recalcitrant resistance’ and the second is ‘rightful resistance’ (Li and O’Brien 1996). The former is resistance characterized by acts like boldly defying orders and laws and challenging village leaders. People engaged in this form of resistance show little deference to officials and may even use violence against those who offend them (Li and O’Brien 1996: 35). This can thus be seen as the opposite of the forms of covert everyday resistance as observed by Scott and Kerkvliet. According to O’Brien, recalcitrant resisters have little chance of success in overcoming their subordinate position as their confrontational, or even violent methods can easily be charged as illegal and therefore oppressed by authorities (O’Brien 1996).
The other form of resistance as discussed by Li and O’Brien, ‘rightful resistance’, can be more successful, and is therefore more interesting to look at. It is worth quoting the whole definition of ‘rightful resistance’ as conveyed by O’Brien as it clearly encapsulates the meaning and elements of this form of resistance. According to O’Brien (1996: 33) rightful resistance is
“a form of popular contention that (1) operates near the boundary of an authorized channel, (2) employs the rhetoric and commitments of the powerful to curb political or economic power, and (3) hinges on locating and exploiting divisions among the powerful.
In particular, rightful resistance entails the innovative use of laws, policies, and other officially promoted values to defy “disloyal” political and economic elites; it is a kind of partially
22 sanctioned resistance that uses influential advocates and recognized principles to apply pressure on those in power who have failed to live up to some professed ideal or who have not implemented some beneficial measure.”
The main element of this form of resistance is that people in a subordinate position use the discourse of the powerful and use it against them. It is akin to everyday resistance in that it is opportunistic and unorganized, at least at first. Yet, it is very different from everyday resistance, because where everyday resistance is mostly secret, covert and quiet, rightful resistance is invariably 'noisy‘, public and open’ (O’Brien 1996: 34). Instead of negating power relations, rightful resisters are negotiating with power (Chandra 2015). As O’Brien (2005: 35) writes
“those who pursue [rightful resistance] take the values and programs of political and economic elites to heart while demonstrating that some authorities do not. They launch attacks that are legitimate by definition in a rhetoric that even unresponsive authorities must recognize, lest they risk being charged with hypocrisy and disloyalty to the system of power they represent”.
Just like communities that engage in resistance are not homogeneous, so is the object of their resistance not homogenous. By finding fault with some, while finding allies in others, and by using the law to leverage their claim, actors can successfully resist power and injustices without resorting to violence and without being ‘stuck’ in repertoires of everyday forms of resistance. Essential for this form of resistance, though, is that there should be some support from higher up. Fox (1994, 1996), for example, has argued that rights are rarely granted when authoritarian elites remain united. Therefore, in the most repressive regimes resistance will largely be confined to everyday forms of resistance, while in less repressive, more inclusive regimes, some form of rightful resistance may appear. When partial inclusion is formally extended, for example through reforms in law, and sanctioned coercion diminishes, for example through increased democratization, cases of more complete rightful resistance become possible (O’Brien 1997: 47). A distinctive characteristic of rightful resistance is that it is a combination of legal tactics with grassroots collective action (O’Brien 1997: 51). Yet, how this grassroots collective
23 action comes about, who the people are that engage in this action and what drives them, is an area of inquiry that still needs a lot of research (Brandtstädter 2006: 711-712). As Ortner (1995: 190) has strikingly noted:
“resistance studies are thin because they are ethnographically thin: thin on the internal politics of dominated groups, thin on the cultural richness of those groups [and] thin on the subjectivity – the intentions, desires, fear, projects – of the actors engaged in these dramas”.
O’Brien (2013: 1053), then, rightfully notes that resistance should be studied as
“a product of collectivities living in a specific political economy and socio-cultural setting: of people with histories and moral understandings who are grappling (individually and together) with marketization, legal reforms, […], neoliberalism and many other challenges and opportunities”.
This then should be the main focus of resistance studies if it tries to unravel the dynamics of grassroots protest. Through my case study of a tribe resisting a large-scale mining company I do just that. I have researched the everyday lives of the Guinaang that resist (or not) by carefully looking at how they make sense of their environment through their livelihood strategies and within their social networks, and how they cope with threats and deal with opportunities from outside.
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Context
In order to carry out a meaningful analysis of a local mining conflict, it is imperative to understand the broader setting in which this conflict takes place. The more so when this analysis is conducted by studying the livelihood styles of people as these styles are embedded in historical, spatial and social settings. Therefore, several important background themes will be discussed in this chapter to situate the struggle in the broader context of the nation, region, province and village level. The topics that this chapter will touch upon, in order of appearance, are: the land and mining policy of the Philippines, the policy on indigenous peoples in the Philippines, characteristics of civil society in the Philippines, local struggles for land and the history of resistance in the Cordillera region. In addition to this, a short description of the Chico Dam Struggle in Kalinga will be given, the province where the research has been conducted. The chapter ends with an historical overview of the struggles of the Guinaang up to the present day.
Part A: national context
Philippine economic and political context: the lowland majority and the highland minority Up to today one can observe an ethnic and spatial bifurcation in the Philippines. This bifurcation can be traced back to the period of Spanish colonization (1521-1889). Early
Spanish land laws institutionalized a dichotomy between a Christianized, nominally westernized majority in the lowlands and a ‘non-Christian tribal’ minority in the uplands. These land laws, and other laws, discriminated the livelihoods of the uplanders against those of the lowlanders, and has contributed to a historical marginalization of the economic situation of indigenous people. One example of this is that lowland people have historically been perceived as practising productive paddy rice cultivation, while upland tribes were considered to be engaged in unproductive slash-and-burn practices which were deemed harmful to the national forest reserves (Dressler 2009: 86). Policies were enacted to curtail these slash-and-burn practices, while large-scale rice cultivation was promoted (Dressler 2009). The historical marginalization of indigenous people has left its marks on the current situation of indigenous people. The Cordillera region, where the large majority of the
25 residents is indigenous, has some of the highest poverty rate of the Philippines. It has further been found that the regions with the highest concentrations of indigenous people, like the Cordillera, receive the smallest allocations from the national government, and thus receive a poor provision of basic social services (Zarate 2014: 1).
Although the legal framework has changed for the better for indigenous people (see the next paragraph), the political setting is highly skewed towards the landed elite. This can be seen from the overrepresentation of land-based regional elites in the national legislature, the dominance of family-based national political parties and the use of ‘guns, goons, and gold’ during election time (Franco 2008: 994). So, in order to resist a large-scale mine in their territory, indigenous people have to fight a battle on a legal front (against biased laws), on a political front (against family based landed elite) and also on an economic front (a personal struggle against poverty).
Land, mining and indigenous people in the Philippines In the Philippines there is a relatively large overlap between mines and indigenous people
(see figure 3 and 4). Like many other ‘developing’ countries, the Philippine economy has increasingly been liberalized. This also had its effect on national mining policies and the number of operating mines in the Philippines. Yet, what should be noted is that compared to its Southeast-Asian neighbours, the Philippines is also relatively advanced in recognizing the rights of indigenous peoples (Aquino 2004: 116). I will now briefly discuss these two seemingly opposite tendencies. Industrial mining officially began at the onset of the American colonization of the islands. In 1903 the first industrial mine had started its operations in the Philippines (Benguet Corporation 2015) and in 1905 the Mining Law was legislated. This gave the American colonizers the right to acquire public land for mining purposes (Molintas 2004: 284). Over the years the industry flowered and in 1980, 45 mines were already active in the archipelago (Cabalda et al. 2002). These mines accounted for 20 percent of all export revenue of the Philippine islands (Rovillos et al. 2003). The mining of minerals by foreign mining companies was facilitated by the Philippine government. Especially from the mid-1990s onwards the government pursued an active development strategy led by mineral extraction as a source of income (Holden 2005b: 420; Holden et al. 2011: 146). This culminated in the Mining Act of 1995. The enforcement of the Act followed a trend in the legislature that discriminated
26 indigenous people The legal system of the Philippines had followed the Regalian Doctrine which was introduced by the Spanish colonizers. They embraced the feudal theory of jura regalia which means that all land belongs to the crown (Molintas 2004: 283-284; Prill-Brett 2007). This doctrine was then integrated in the republican system and enshrined in the Philippine constitution. It is stated in the 1987 Constitution that all lands, water and mineral resources that lie in the public domain are owned by the state (Philippine Constitution 1987). This is problematic because many indigenous people live in this ‘public domain’. This is so because the Revised Forestry Code of 1975 declares that all lands 18% in slope or over are automatically considered forestland and therefore not alienable, making it property of the state, and most of the indigenous people are living in these areas (Molintas 2004: 291). Hence, these indigenous people were deemed squatters subject to eviction (Dressler 2009: 86). In the Constitution of 1987 it is further written that foreign mining companies are allowed to mine in the country. They were allowed to have 40% ownership over the company.
However, the investment climate for mining companies was at first quite restrictive. Eventually, this restrictive investment climate scared off some mining companies and it was argued by government officials that it underutilized the full potential of mining companies to bring foreign direct investment to the country. Then, under the neoliberal government of president Ramos, the Mining Act of 1995 was enacted (Holden 2005a: 225; Lansang 2011:
128). This was a landmark for the mining industry as henceforth a mining company could have 100% ownership of the mining property instead of just 40%, and this ownership right would be granted for a span of 25 years (through so called FTAAs: Financial or Technical Assistance Agreements) (Holden 2005a: 225; Lansang 2011: 134). This opened the floodgates for mining companies and many companies applied to mine on the Philippine islands
(Holden 2005a: 226). At the outset of the Act, more than one hundred applications of FTAAs were already pending. If all were approved more than one third of the Philippines’ total land area would be mined (Lansang 2011: 135). This formed a real threat for the indigenous people in the Philippines, as they could be evicted from their land to make place for mining operations (Dalupan 2000: 3). In short, the Mining Act of 1995 was a real blow for the indigenous people. But then, two years later in 1997, the Indigenous Peoples Right Act (IPRA) came into
27 existence. This act was a considerable milestone for the indigenous peoples (IPs) in the Philippines, who constitute approximately 15 to 20 percent of the Philippine population (Holden 2005b: 420). With the commencement of the IPRA, the Regalian Doctrine as introduced by the Spaniards had finally been challenged (Lynch 1986: 270). The state now officially recognized the existence of another system of law, namely that of customary law (Prill-Brett 2007: 16, 26). IPs, from now on, could claim and receive ancestral land rights and ancestral domain rights and could be the legal custodian of the natural resources on this land (Prill-Brett 2007: 17). What is more, the state now had the duty to actively support IPs. It is literally stated in the constitution that the state
“shall protect the rights of indigenous cultural communities to their ancestral lands to ensure their economic, social and cultural well-being” (Philippine Constitution 1987).
Further, particularly important for this study is that, with IPRA in force, whenever a company wants to utilize resources located in an area inhabited by indigenous people, it has to ask the permission of these inhabitants. In official terms, the people have to give their Free, Prior and Informed Consent (FPIC), before a company can start its operations in the area (Castillo and Castillo 2009: 277). The meaning of FPIC is that, (1) the process of negotiations should be free, meaning to say free from any external manipulation, interference and coercion, (2) it should be ‘prior’ which means that consent can only be given after full disclosure is given of the intent and scope of the project before the project commences, and (3) it should be informed in the sense that a full disclosure regarding the plans and corresponding advantages and disadvantages of the project be given to the concerned community in an accessible and understandable way (Calde et al. 2013: 37-39; Castillo and Castillo 2009: 277; NCIP 2012: 2). Further, it is stated that customary law and decision-making has primacy in the deliberation on the consent or non-consent (NCIP 2012: 2). With the IPRA, indigenous people had a true legal weapon to protect themselves against outside corporations and the state.2 As mentioned earlier, prior to the IPRA, the forest-based livelihoods of IPs were criminalized by the state. Specifically, the state upheld
2 In 1991, IPs could claim a Certificate of Ancestral Land Claim, this was followed by a Certificate of Ancestral Domain Title in 1993. While these certificates allowed IPs to make claims to their ancestral lands, it did not facilitate the actual ownership of the ancestral land. Therefore it was considered a halfway measure (Eder 1994). 28 policies for forest conservation that controlled the clearing of forests by IPs for swiddens (Bryant 2000: 683-684; Dressler 2007: 86). However, the IPRA of 1997, is the completion of a paradigm shift, a shift from viewing IPs as unsustainable users of the natural resources that needs to be controlled to viewing IPs as natural resource conservers through their indigenous practices which should be allowed and legalized (Prill-Brett 2007: 17). The IPRA was a big blow for the mining industry as it almost made void the Mining Act that was just passed two years prior. More than half of the mining operations in the Philippines are active in domains of IPs (Holden et al. 2011: 150). With more than half of the minerals located in these areas, companies would have a hard time accessing these minerals. With the underlying logic of a mining company in mind, any possible denial to economic viable land, becomes a serious threat to the existence of a mining company (Holden 2005b: 422). The IPRA is such a threat. As a consequence, despite the legal regulations, violations of the IPRA had occurred regularly (Castillo and Castillo 2007: 277). It can be deduced from the preceding information that conflict between IPs and mining companies has been institutionalized in Philippine law through the simultaneous existence of both the Mining Act of 1995 and the Indigenous People’s Right Act of 1997. Indeed, all over the country battles have been waged between IPs and mining companies (Castillo and Castillo 2009: 278). I will now turn to how the resistance of IPs has been manifested in the Philippines.
Peasant and indigenous people’s resistance in the Philippines Franco (2008: 997) writes that in the Philippines “the main contenders in the battle for social- political control of land conflicts and their outcomes have been representatives of: (1) [the] ‘cacique’ field, (2) the juridical field, and (3) a highly fragmented social movement field”. By the ‘cacique’ field she means regional land-based elite families.3 Franco only shortly glances over a fourth field, that of the field of village-based community law and politics. Of this she says that it has ‘not figured in resolving conflicts between big landowners and peasants’, which is the focus of her article, ‘as it involves relatively equal social relations’ (Franco 2008: 997). For this study however, the field of village-based community law and politics is of
3 With this term she refers to Andersons’ term of ‘cacique’ democracy which he uses for the contemporary Philippine democratic system in which a couple of rich, land-owning families have deeply vested themselves in the political system. (Franco 2008: 994). 29 central importance. Indeed village-based politics has a major role to play in the struggle by indigenous peasants against a multinational mining companies. It is this field to which I will now turn to. Indigenous peasant resistance in the Philippines is played out on different domains at the village level. Rasch, in her case study of Palawan, has identified at least three domains at which resistance is played out, namely: (1) the domain of infrapolitics and the open critique of neoliberal development, (2) the domain of local politics, and (3) the domain of indigenous rights (Rasch and Köhne forthcoming: 9-10). With infrapolitics she refers to the concept as put forth by Scott (1985), also known as everyday forms of resistance. It is the individual or collective resistance that stop short of openly declared contestation (Rasch and Köhne forthcoming: 2). This intermingles in the first domain with the discourse of questioning neoliberal development. This critique can express itself into open resistance through activities by grassroots leaders with cooperation of NGOs, for example through rallies. The second domain is played out on the level of barangay and municipal politics. People with anti-mining views can clash with people with a pro-mining stance within the community. The issue of mining then becomes a local political issue. In the third domain people enact a discourse of indigenous rights to justify their position against mining (Rasch and Köhne forthcoming: 9- 10). Important to note is that these domains can intermingle and interact with each other (Rasch and Köhne: 12). I will take Rasch’ analytical typology of resistance in three domains as a basis to look at the wider context of peasant resistance in the Philippines by reviewing the literature on this topic.
The first domain: infrapolitics and open resistance The first domain has been mainly discussed in terms of open resistance. In the literature on resistance in the Philippines this has been discussed in terms of broader social movements and civil society. This form of resistance can be split up between peaceful resistance through civil society and armed resistance.
Civil society in the Philippines
The Philippines has one of the highest NGO densities in the world and its civil society is characterized as strong, dynamic and well organized (Bankoff 2007: 327; Holden 2005: 226-
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227; Hilhorst 2003: 11; Mittelman 1998: 857).4 At the base of Philippine civil society are grassroots organizations. These are local organizations, for example, farmer cooperatives that are set up to promote the interests of its members. In the Philippines these are commonly called ‘people’s organizations’. Moving up one level, one can find the organizations broadly labelled as NGOs. These are non-governmental organizations with specialist knowledge on certain topics. The people in these NGOs provide services to subsections of the population, for example farmers, indigenous people or urban dwellers, and act on their behalf (Holden 2005: 226). They “facilitate the flow of funds, information, and materials among grassroots organizations and such broader institutions as church, state, and development donors” (Durning, 1989: 67). A third layer of Philippine civil society is the Roman Catholic church
(Holden 2005: 227). Historically, the church has played an important role in development issues as can be seen from the fact that since 1966 every diocese in the country has a social action centre to implement projects aimed at social justice (Youngblood 1990). The church has been vocal in condemning injustices and it is also taking action against mining corporations. The National Council of Churches, for example, has held conferences to speak about issues pertaining large-scale mining (Holden 2005: 230). Besides, people’s organizations, NGOs and the Church, a fourth actor plays an important role in struggles against the state and multinational companies. These are guerrilla movements, in particular the Maoist New People’s Army (NPA), the Muslim Moro Islamic Liberation Front (MILF) and Abu Sayyaf, these last two groups are predominantly active on the southern island of Mindanao (Holden 2005a: 242). The NPA is active in the Cordillera region, where this research has been conducted. The NPA is the armed wing of the National Democratic Front of the Philippines (NDFP) – a united front of revolutionary organizations that include the Communist Party of the Philippines. The NPA wages a national democratic revolution to change the present ruling class controlled state (CPA-CDPC 2013). The struggle of the NPA against the Philippine national government is one of the longest, if not the longest, running insurgencies of the world. It has been engaged in conflict with the Armed Forces of the Philippines (AFP) since 1969. The struggle has allegedly cost over 43,000 lives (Quimpo 2008). Members of the NPA consist for a large part of the rural poor, who are often
4 Here, with civil society I adopt Mittelman’s definition of citizens’ organizations that are not based in the private or public sector (Mittelman 1998: 855).
31 marginalized by the national government and see no alternative to improve their situation than by armed resistance, and are fighting against the, in their eyes, oligarchic and corrupt government which they blame for the structurally disadvantaged position and chronic poverty of many Filipinos (Santos and Santos 2010 in Holden 2014: 74-75). Many NPA activists are based in mountainous areas which are inhabited by indigenous people and which are also applied by mining companies to mine (Holden et al. 2011: 154). In short, mining applications of companies are not only expected to face opposition by the local, indigenous people, but also to provoke the ire of the NPA. The actions of the NPA consist of direct attacks against mining companies and reactions against the deployment of troops of the AFP at a (prospective) mining site (Holden et al. 2011: 154-155; Holden2014: 77).
The influence of civil society on mining policy As the number of active companies had increased since the implementation of the Mining Act of 1995, the number of incidents or catastrophes relating to these companies have also increased (IBON foundation 2012). These incidents have made indigenous communities more wary of mining companies and has contributed to an increase in resistance against these companies (Holden 2005a: 228). Particularly, the Marcopper Mining Disaster gave a large boost in the organization of civil society against large-scale industrious mining (Holden 2005: 230-231; Lansang 2011: 129). To give one example of the width of the protest: in September 1996, six months after the disaster, a rally was held against industrial mining on the island of
Negros wherein over 15.000 people participated (Tujan 2001; Tujan and Guzman 2002). The protests against large-scale mining has not only been reactive. Starting from its inception, the Mining Act has been met by resistance by Philippine civil society. Over the years a well-organized alliance of NGOs from over the country has been advocating the abolition of the Act and has proposed an alternative mining bill. This alternative mining bill seeks to address the flaws in the Mining Act and is based on the principle of sustainability (Lansang 2011). The opposition was so successful that the Mining Act had been ruled unconstitutional by the Supreme Court. On January, 2004 the court declared the Act unconstitutional citing that FTAAs are “clearly incompatible with the constitutional ideal of nationalisation of natural resources and, on a broader perspective, with Philippine sovereignty” (Rufo 2006 in Lansang 2011: 147). This was a historical success for the anti- mining movement. Unfortunately, the court ruling was reversed just ten months later. A
32 coalition of mining corporation representatives and government officials had lobbied for the Mining Act. The main argument was that the mining industry had ‘untapped’ potential that could contribute to the national economic development and could play an important role in solving the fiscal budget deficit that was ‘discovered’ in December that year (Lansang 2011:
147-148). In the end the neoliberal paradigm prevailed over the protests of the people. However, the anti-mining movement has had quite some influence on the national mining policy. The advocacy campaign had resulted in several mining companies withdrawing from the Philippines. Furthermore, the total amount of FTAAs was only limited to five and the president had suspended all large-scale mining applications while the government reviewed all pending mining claims. In addition, some provincial governments have declared a ban on large-scale mining, and local governments have asserted their autonomy vis-à-vis large-scale mining companies (Lansang 2011: 154-155). In short, although, Philippine civil society was not able to repeal the Mining Act of 1995 completely, they have come a long way in pressuring the government in revising their mining policy and have empowered local governments and local populations to make a stance against mining corporations.
The second and third domain: local politics and indigenous rights While the first domain has been mostly discussed in the literature on a macro level, the second and third domain has mostly been discussed on the micro level. From the examples I will present below it can be deducted that these two domains are highly intertwined. In what follows I will make clear how the domains of local politics and indigenous rights can both be used in favour of indigenous people and to their detriment. Using indigenous rights to achieve a certain goal can be a risky endeavour to engage in. By practicing identity politics, groups risks being characterized on certain, ‘static essences’.
Using indigeneity to claim rights can therefore not always be as successful as one hopes to be (see Kirsch 2007). Indigeneity can become a politicised identity whose bearers are expected to behave ‘indigenous’, for example by preferring the ‘traditional’ over the ‘modern’ (Schippers 2010). When a group does not fully meet expected criteria and expectations of ‘indigenousness’, they can be regarded as inauthentic, and may not be able to get hold of the rights they are claiming (Kirsch 2007; Theriault 2011). That is why in the Philippine situation, the IPRA can be regarded as a sword that cuts in two ways. On the one hand it is an
33 opportunity for indigenous people to claim their rights on land and livelihood, on the other hand it can form a pitfall for indigenous people because the Act can be manipulated and used against them. In a case study on the island of Palawan, Theriault (2011: 1428) found that when an indigenous people’s organization applied for a Certificate of Ancestral Domain Title
(CADT), it was rejected by the National Commission on Indigenous People (NCIP) with the argument that the organization consisted of a mix of indigenous and non-indigenous members. A CADT could not be granted if the appeal was not made exclusively on behalf of a recognized indigenous group, so ran the argument (Theriault 2011: 1428). In the province of Benguet in the Cordillera, people used indigenous rights to ward off mining companies. They succeeded at first, but later on, similarly to the Palawan case, they saw their influence waning, as they were not regarded ‘indigenous’ enough. The municipal government blamed the local indigenous organization of being anti-development, because it refused to let mining companies enter the municipality. The municipal government then tried to reject the Certificate of Ancestral Domain Title that was granted earlier and accused the organization of being communist even though the organization tried to avoid this from the start, because it was afraid that it would be associated with the NPA (Prill-Brett 2007: 23; Schippers 2010). Additionally, and in contrast to the municipal claims, BITO was not considered a genuine indigenous organization by regional NGOs. One NGO questioned the true political agenda of the organization as, initially, it had close ties with the municipal government. The NGO considered it atypical for an indigenous peoples organization to have close links with the municipal government, because it is assumed that people’s organization are anti-mining while government institutions are generally pro-mining. In the end, the credibility and authenticity of BITO as an indigenous organization was questioned by the municipal government, local NGOs and even the community itself. One concrete consequence of this was that it no longer played a leading role in the Free, Prior and
Informed Consent process of the municipality (Schippers 2010: 234-235). In short the indigenous people’s organization “disappointed both the municipal government and regional indigenous peoples organizations by either being ‘too indigenous’ or ‘too insufficiently indigenous” (Schippers 2010: 235). So, as the case studies point out, indigenousness can be used to claim one’s right, but it’s use also runs the risk of working against one’s aims.
In this first part of this context chapter I have explained how people tried to reject or prevent multinational companies from coming through the IPRA. This form of rightful
34 resistance has sometimes met with success and sometimes with failure. On the national level successes were gained by Philippine civil society. The ruling of the Supreme Court declared the Mining Act unconstitutional, even though it was only temporary, and some provinces have banned large-scale mining. On the micro-level resistance has been played out in local politics mixed with an indigenous rights discourse. The outcome of the struggle has also been partially successful. I have shown how an indigenous organization has successfully attained a Certificate of Ancestral Domain Title, but at the same time how grassroots organizations have been accused of being too little ‘indigenous’ or too much, a label which has limited their power and influence. In the second part of this context chapter I will specifically focus on resistance that has been played out on the regional level (the Cordillera Administrative Region), the provincial level (Kalinga) and the local level (Pasil and the Guinaang tribe).
Part B: regional and local context Local land conflicts: the Cordilleran situation
The Cordillera region is a series of mountain chains located in the northern part of the island Luzon. Historically, for indigenous people in the Cordillera land means life. Land is considered sacred ground, and if not sacred, it is considered communal. It differs from the capitalistic view on land in that land is not seen as a commodity to be made easily alienable so to promote the circulation and accumulation of capital. Nor is it considered property of individuals. Rather, as embedded in customary practices, people are considered caretaker of the land, not owners of it. If someone stops using a piece of land the land, it is returned to the community and free to use for any of its community members. So, instead of the capitalistic practice of people having individual titles, the whole community is entitled to the land (Molintas 2004: 275-276, 305-306). Discrepancy between state law and indigenous law lies at the root of conflict between multinational resource exploitative companies, whether backed up by the state or not, and indigenous people. As I have briefly described above, the philosophy and economic theory underlying each system of law are at key points in contradiction with each other. Because of this, concepts of land ownership, land rights, land classification, land alienation and natural resource management differ to such an extent from each other, that if these two discourses
35 meet, disputes seem inevitable (Gaspar 2000 in Molintas 2004: 295). Indeed, even before the existence of the Indigenous People’s Right Act, there have been conflicts between the state and multinational companies on the one hand, and IPs on the other hand. One such conflict was the conflict around the Chico Dam Project. Many people were opposed to this project, yet dictator President Marcos still wanted to implement it with military support. This conflict is important for this study because the Guinaang were also involved in this conflict. Before, I will turn to this conflict, a brief explanation of the Cordilleran peace pact system should be given, because this system was instrumental in the victory of the people over this World Bank funded project. A peace pact, bodong in the local language, is traditionally instituted to end a tribal war or conflict between two tribes. Thereafter it is used to maintain peace between two tribes. It facilitates trade and travel, it sets boundaries between tribes, and it ensures justice when crimes are committed by members of the treaty. Furthermore it establishes alliances. These alliances enable intermarriages, and enables tribes to face a common enemy (Cariño 1979: 6; Stark and Skibo 2007: 99).
The Chico Dam Struggle The traditional peace pact in the Cordillera is a pact between two tribes, thus bilateral. However, this bilateral customary practice evolved into a multilateral pact when tribes from the Cordillera took a common stand to defend their villages when from the mid-1970s large tracts of land of peoples were threatened to be appropriated for so called ‘development’ projects. These projects were the ‘Chico River Basin Development Project’ that aimed to construct four large dams and a project of ‘Cellophil Resources Corporation’ which planned to log thousands of trees on 200,000 hectares of land. The projects were planned under the dictatorship of president Marcos in the late 1970s with funding of the World Bank. They were to take place in the home lands of indigenous people in the Cordillera, mainly Kalinga and Bontoc (CPA: 1, A History of Resistance: The Cordillera Mass Movement Against the Chico Dam and Cellophil Resources Corporation; Drucker 1985). To make room for the projects thousands of people ‘needed’ to be displaced (Drucker 1985; Skibo 1999: 3). In particular the Chico dam project would be a large threat to the livelihoods of the people, including the
Guinaang. As the CPA has documented, thousands of villagers relied on the Chico river for the irrigation of their rice terraces and for domestic consumption (CPA: 1). The four dams
36 threatened to inundate several villages from the provinces of Mt. Province and Kalinga. The Marcos administration, faced with protest, had told the people that the minorities had to sacrifice for national development (Drucker 1985: 151). Threated by a common enemy, Kalinga and Bontoc tribes found a common aspiration. The Kalinga-Bontoc Peace Pact
Holders Association came into existence and led the movement against the dam (Claver 2006: 2; Drucker 1985: 152). The Peace Pact Holders Association was an evolution of the peace pact system already in place. Supported by national and international organizations, the resistance movement succeeded in stopping the projects in its tracks (Claver 2006; CPA; Drucker 1985). The legacy of the struggle is large. An indirect effect of the resistance movement is that it helped craft a regional consciousness of the Cordillera. In particular, through the inter- tribal meetings and bodong conferences the different tribes of the Cordillera were increasingly exposed to each other and learnt that they shared a common history of national oppression by the ruling elites of Philippine society, had common indigenous culture and shared the same problems and enemies (CPA: 4; Drucker 1985). Another effect of the struggle is that rights of IPs were enshrined in the constitution of 1987 and in that same year the Cordillera Administrative Region was proclaimed, consisting of the provinces of Abra, Benguet, Mountain Province, Ifugao, Kalinga and Apayao. The struggle also contributed to the establishment of the Cordillera People’s Alliance (CPA). The CPA, or in full the Cordillera Peoples’ Alliance for the Defense of the Ancestral Domain and for Self-Determination, was established in 1984 and up to date has distinguished itself as the leading organized expression of the Cordillera mass movement. Since the victory of the people, a yearly Cordillera Day is held on April 24 in memorial of the success of the Chico Dam struggle and the martyrs of the struggle. It is also an occasion to gain strength for the present and future defence of land and life of the people in the Cordillera (CPA: 4). The centralized Cordillera
Day celebration of 2014 was held in Guinaang, it was part of a campaign to ward off the Makilala Mining Company. In short, the Chico Dam struggle has left a legacy of united Cordilleran tribes against foreign exploitation and against ‘development aggression’ of corporations and the state. This has created a collective consciousness that the different tribes share the same politico- economic situation and forged a basis of a culture of resistance against large resource exploitative projects. Having briefly discussed the context of struggle of tribes in the
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Cordillera, I will now discuss the struggles of the tribes of the province of Kalinga of which the Guinaang tribe is one.
Kalinga: local dynamics of conflict
The name ‘Kalinga’ literally translates to ‘enemy’, ‘fighter’ or even ‘head taker’ (Keesing 1962: 221; Matilac et al. no date). One source states that the name ‘Kalinga’ was given to the people during the American Period by Governor Hale as he drew the label from kallinga, meaning ‘constant warfare’ (Skibo 1999: 80). This is a reference to the (headhunting) raids to neighbouring tribes that have historically been carried out by tribes in Kalinga5. Yet, head taking is not something the Kalinga people occupy themselves with, not anymore. The practice had been abjured around the start of the 20th century (Bowen 1904). Besides fighting between tribes, the ‘Kalinga’ fought and successfully warded off Spanish colonizers during three centuries of colonial rule (Prill-Brett 2007: 13). They were successful in inhibiting the Spaniards from taking the gold lying in their ancestral land. Gold was the main objective of the Spanish incursions from the early start. This can be noted from the fact that “the Spanish monarchy under King Philip III was desperately in need of gold when Spain waged the “Thirty Years’ War” in 1618 against the Dutch” (Scott 1975: 7). Fast- forward to the year 2015, about 400 years later, and it seems not much has changed. Up to the present day the mountain people of the Cordillera, and so also the Kalinga, have remained their autonomy and remain as tribal people defending their land, resources and way of life. Yet foreigners still try to get their hands on the gold buried underneath the soil around the villages of the Igorot. But still today, the resistance of the people is strong.
The struggles of the Guinaang: history and present Although they are considered a peaceful tribe now, in the historical records the Guinaang, like other Kalinga tribes, are described as fierce and brave warriors, even headhunters. This is true, the Guinaang would go to enemy territory and would use their machetes and spears to
5 I am aware that the term ‘tribe’ may carry a negative connotation or can be used to essentialized certain ethnic people. Yet, I use the term ‘tribe’ as this was the term that informants themselves used to refer to themselves in the organization of an ethnic group. With the term I roughly mean: a group of people connected through kinship ties who share common descent, language, historical tradition and cultural practices and who historically have lived in a certain territory. Defined this way the terms ‘tribe’ or ‘tribal people’ can be used interchangeably with the term ‘indigenous people’ as stated in the IPRA (Philippine Constitution, Republic Act No. 8371). 38 attack the enemy and would get their heads as trophies. The people with the highest head count were called ‘mingul’, brave warriors and were highly respected in the community (HPI 2007: 1-3; Matilac et al. 16-17). It is said that chief Atumpa of the Guinaang who lived at the start of the 20th century and who initiated peace among the tribes, had an head count of 24, the highest of barangay Guina-ang, and that a person from barangay Pugong had the highest head count of the whole Guinaang tribe, a head count of 30 (personal interviews). But at the start of the last century, around 1902, the headhunting had ceased. Governor Bowen, an American administrator, wanted the headhunting practices to stop for the supposed reason that God forbade it. Therefore, he set out to meet chieftain Atumpa of the Guinaang. After this historical meeting, Atumpa then made a conference with the other tribes of Kalinga to stop the headhunting. And his efforts were surprisingly successful (Bowen 1904).6 Today, people from the Guinaang are proud of the fact that their chieftain had a leading role in the cessation of the headhunting practices (personal interviews). In one of the houses in Guinaang two portraits of the leader are displayed (see figure 5 and 6). With the cessation of the headhunting practices and the waning of the hostilities between the tribes, other troubles came in. In the company of Bowen there was a geologist. In their quest of pacification the Americans also wanted to trace some gold deposits (Bowen 1904). This then would be the herald for the future mining companies that would try to mine the gold deposits that lay in the mountains of the Guinaang. As one knowledgeable person from the Guinaang had said to me ‘foreigners have always visited the place to find and get gold’. Indeed, starting as early as the Spanish period gold was being looked for in the mountain of the Cordillera, including Kalinga (Scott 1975). Foreign interference culminated in the mid- and the end 1970s with the Chico Dam Struggle, during which some members of the Guinaang tribe had joined the NPA to resist the project. When Marcos was ousted in 1986 and the Chico Dam struggle was won, Cory Aquino served as president for one term. This was a good change from the Marcos era, as one informant related to me. But after Cory Aquino resigned, the highlanders including the Guinaang experienced much of the same that they had experienced before her rule, namely neglect from the national government. Besides the neglect of the government, upland
6 Part of the key of its success may lie in the fact that, although the Kalinga believed in spirits, they also had one great god, namely Kabunyan. For the people, this god could be the same as the Christian God, so the reasoning of the Americans to stop the headhunting could be understood by the people.
39 communities increasingly had to face foreign investors who wanted to gain profits from natural resources in the vicinity of their communities. For the Guinaang these investors came mostly in the form of gold mining companies. The Makilala company, the antagonist of this study and the target of the resistance of Guinaang people, is only the most recent one (the
FPIC process of Makilala started at the end of 2013). Other companies that tried to mine were, amongst others, the Batong Buhay mining company and the Australian Newcrest mining company (personal interviews). The Guinaang also had to deal with Chevron in 2008, one of the largest oil companies in the world, which wanted to start a geothermal project in their area. However people from the tribe succeeded in halting the company (Innabuyog 2014). Most of the people are very critical and cautious with these companies that would bring so called development. In 2014, Cordillera Day was held in Guinaang. The day solidified the resistance against Makilala. Many indigenous people from other countries also participated. Through this contact the people from Guinaang also become more aware that the struggles they face are similar to that of other indigenous people around the world.
Concluding remarks In the first part of this chapter I have set out how the simultaneous existence of the national laws of the IPRA and the Mining Act can lead to conflictive situations. Here, I would like to add that the existence of both customary law and state law on the local level can further increase the chance of conflictive situations to occur.
It is important to note that customary law still takes a large place in the settling of political affairs within and between Kalinga villages. Truly, the system of custom law that revolves around a peace pact, or bodong remains pivotal in Kalinga society (Bacdayan 1967, 1969; Benedito 1994). As I have observed in the villages of the Guinaang, legal battles are seldom waged in the courts, but rather are settled within the tribe. Wise elders have authoritative power in settling disputes, in particular, the pangat, elders who act as peacemakers during strife. They are not elected into their position, but rather ‘grow’ into their social and political role as people ‘just know’ who has become one (Dozier 1966: 119). Their leadership is based on wise interpretation of custom law, oratorical ability, economic influence, wide kinship connections and a record of having settled disputes (Matilac et al.: 6).
Most commonly these elders/leaders are men. However, next to these elders, political matters are also discussed by barangay
40 officials and municipal officials. These officials may assert state law. This situation of legal pluralism can lead to conflictive situations. June Prill-Brett (2007) has illustrated through different case studies in the Cordillera how individuals of indigenous communities have used and manipulated both customary law and state law to pursue their own interests. She demonstrates how elites within a community use their power and influence to claim communal land through state laws, for example by claiming it as an individual ancestral domain through IPRA. This is particular the case for local government officials who are to decide how the development of land within the municipality takes place. It should be noted that municipal level programs are prioritized according to the size of the target population. Consequently, this encourages government officials to expand the political territory of their municipality to gain more access to government resources such as the Internal Revenue Allotment (IRA) share (Prill-Brett 2007: 22). This can be done by claiming Certificates of Ancestral Domain or Land Titles through the IPRA. While this can be carried out for the good of the community, it has been observed that government officials also use the IPRA for their own individual interest. Government officials or elites can claim land under the pretext of communal domain, but later on privatize the land through tax declarations (Prill-Brett 2007: 24). Most importantly in the context of this study, people may use communal land for commercial purposes (see Prill-Brett 2007: 28). They can use the land to cultivate cash crops or can even try to sell the land to outside investors, for example to a mining company. Not surprisingly, this ‘legal shopping’ between state and local law does not always go unabated.
Indeed, as June Prill-Brett (2007) has pointed out, it has fuelled or exacerbated intra- and inter-community conflict. Especially, it has (1) fuelled conflict over resource ownership, (2) it has sparked conflict between local government officials and community elders, (3) it has fuelled boundary conflicts between tribes (4) and in some cases it has caused a breakdown of customary rules and contestation over rights to resources (Prill-Brett: 31). The first three scenarios have also occurred in this case study. In short, the struggle of the Guinaang is not only against the company, but also takes place within the community and with another tribe. This will be elaborated on in chapter six. For now, let us take a closer look at the livelihoods of the Guinaang as discussed in the next chapter.
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Chapter 5: the livelihoods of the Guinaang
Introduction In this chapter I will describe the livelihood styles and strategies of the Guinaang. I will pay extra attention to the role of social capital in the livelihoods of the people. Before going directly to the livelihoods of the people, I will first briefly introduce the people and their place.
Geographical description To better understand the geographical positioning of the Guinaang, I will first briefly describe the administrative structure of the Philippines (also see figure 7). The Philippines is divided into three island groups, these are, from north to south: Luzon, Visayas and Mindanao. The Guinaang live on the northern island of Luzon. It is also in Luzon were the national capital Manila is located. The island groups are divided into 17 regions and 81 provinces (National Statistical Coordination Board 2015). A region is an administrative unit that is comprised of several provinces of which the people have more or less homogenous characteristics such as ethnic origin, dialect and crops being cultivated (Balucanag 2014). The Guinaang live in the Cordillera Administrative Region. The indigenous people living here are collectively known as ‘Igorot’ (people from the mountains). An administrative region does not have political power. A province in contrast does yield political power. It is headed by a governor. Provinces are subdivided into cities and municipalities which are headed by a mayor. Municipalities are comprised of barangays. Barangays are the smallest and basic units of the Philippine political system. Barangays are governed by a directly chosen barangay council. The head representative of the barangay is the barangay chairman, commonly called barangay captain.
A barangay can consist of as little as 100 people up to as much as 900 people (Balucanag 2014). Lastly, a barangay is split up in sitios. These are like neighbourhoods and do not have a political function.
The Guinaang The Guinaang live in the lush and terraced mountains of Kalinga province situated in the Cordillera Administrative Region (see maps 1 to 6). The tribe is comprised of 3000 to 4000 people (Pasil LGU 2015). The people of the tribe live in six of the thirteen barangays of the
42 municipality Pasil. These barangays are Guina-ang, Galdang, Bagtayan, Pugong, Malucsad and Dangtalan. (see map 5 and 6).7 The other seven barangays of Pasil are inhabited by other tribes: the Balatoc, the Turgao, the Cagaluan and the Balanciagao. Of the six barangays, barangay Guina-ang is the largest barangay. Around 900 people are living here. Barangay
Guina-ang is geographically split between Guina-ang proper and sitio Amdalao where the seat of the municipal government is located and where most government employees reside. Guina-ang is the barangay in which I had stayed and which is the main focus of this study. Galdang is situated at a slightly higher position than Guina-ang and is removed a few minutes away from it. It is the smallest barangay of the six. Around 350 people have their home here (Pasil LGU 2015). From Galdang you can hike to Bagtayan. Bagtayan is the most remote barangay of the six. It takes about one hour by foot to get there from Guina-ang. Malucsad, Pugong and Dangtalan lie a bit lower than Guina-ang and are a 20 to 30-minutes- walk away from the road, while Guina-ang is directly accessibly by road. I have conducted interviews in all barangays, except barangay Dangtalan. From Guina-ang, it takes about a 4-hours-jeepney-ride to go to Tabuk, the urban centre of Kalinga. Only Guina-ang and Amdalao are directly connected to the road. However, during the time of the field work a road going to Malucsad was constructed. There are a few persons who have a private car and there are also a few people who own a motorcycle, but almost all of the people depend on the daily jeep ride going to Tabuk. This ride leaves from Guina-ang and only goes once a day. The barangays are relatively poor as Pasil is a poor municipality. It is a fifth class municipality with an annual income of 15 to 25 million pesos, (only a sixth class municipality has a lower income).8
The mapping of Guina-ang: climate and land use Guina-ang has a dry and a wet season. The dry season lasts about seven months, from
November to May, while the rest of the year is more like a rainy season, though there is not a very pronounced maximum rainy season. The rain can cause soil erosion which triggers landslides. These landslides can cover roads and footpaths. Strong typhoons are relatively
7 Recently, there have been debates about if Dangtalan, really is part of the tribe. This has to do with a geothermal project of Chevron, which handed out scholarships per tribe. By presenting Dangtalan as separate from the Guina- ang they could claim rights to more scholarships (Constantino, interview). 8 Municipalities are divided into income classes according to their average annual income during the previous four calendar years (see figure 8). 43 rare in Guina-ang. Yet, when they visit, they can have a devastating effect on the fields of the Guina-ang. Just this year, in October 2015, super typhoon Lando (known as Koppu outside of the Philippines), has destroyed many rice fields in Guina-ang, leaving the people with barely any rice to harvest and with large rice shortages (personal communication). This is problematic because the people depend largely on their rice fields for their daily food. Indeed, the majority of the Guinaang have their livelihood based in subsistence agriculture. As Benny, one of my informants, has said: In tribal society there are six things needed: (1) a residential place, (2) a forest (ginobat), (3) pasture land, (4) rice fields (5) fruit trees and (6) swidden plots (uma). Let us briefly take a look at these six elements of Guinaang tribal society.
The houses of the Guinaang are grouped together and located close to each other (see figures 9 to 12).9 Being so closely located to each other makes it easy for people to visit their neighbours. Indeed, people often pay a visit to each other to have a chat over merienda, (usually some sweet sugared coffee accompanied by a small snack like a rice cake). Men occasionally come together to share some ‘four by four’, the commonly used term for a bottle of San Miguel Ginebra (gin). Around the wooden houses one usually find some chickens roaming around and some dogs lying down, and after school there are often children playing in front of the houses. About an hour before dusk sets in, people are returning from a day of work in their fields. The rice fields are located near the residential place. Depending on the barangay, the fields are just a stone’s throw away from the houses, like in Bagtayan where the houses are literally built amidst the rice fields, or it takes a one-hour-hike to get there, like in Pugong and Malucsad. The rice fields are relatively small with most of the rice fields being less than one hectare in size. Most people have a limited amount of rice fields. One of the rice varieties that people grow is the native unoy rice, a reddish, nutritious rice variety grown exclusively in the Kalinga province. Rice is the staple food of the Guina-ang, but besides rice the Guina-ang also produce other crops. These crops, mostly vegetables, are often grown on swiddens. These are cleared areas in the mountains on which the weeds and trees have been cut and
9 The reason of the houses being grouped together becomes apparent when one bears in mind the warrior history of the Kalinga. Being closely located to each other the houses and the people could easily be protected against enemies. The residential place of the Guina-ang has been constructed on a military strategic position as they could see the enemy coming from all directions. Nowadays, people do not have to worry that much about being attacked by enemies. Yet, when people build new houses, they still tend to build them near the other houses.
44 set to fire as to make place for crops, mostly legumes, that are to be planted. These swiddens are normally quite some distance away from the residential area. It can take a 2- to 3-hours hike to get there. The Guina-ang do not have large, commercial vegetable fields as the they do not, or only very little, produce for the market. There are some sugar cane fields, and plans were being made to increase the production, but during the time of the research the number of people having sugar cane fields was still limited. Relating the use of the fields to the livelihood strategies of the people, it can be said that the livelihoods of the Guinaang is predominantly based on subsistence agriculture. Yet people are slowly trying different ways to produce for the market, more on this in the next paragraph. Besides, getting rice and vegetables from their direct environment, people also get fruits from it. There are different kinds of fruit bearing trees that have been planted around the houses of the people, that grow along the pathways going to the rice fields, and which can be found amidst the rice fields themselves. Coffee is plentiful, and people sell a little of it if they have a surplus. Other trees that can be found are coconut trees, banana trees, papaya trees, guanabana trees, mango trees, orange trees and jackfruit trees.
When one leaves the residential area, the rice fields, the fruit trees and the swiddens, one enters, what the Guinaang call ‘the forest’ (ginobat in the local language). It is a forest with a variety of trees, from pine trees to fern trees to banana trees. It is communal property of the Guinaang tribe and I have been told that is not allowed by the Guinaang to make swiddens here. The forest is a source of wood for the houses of the Guinaang. In the forest are also gold deposits located. Some people from the Guinaang tribe are active in small-scale mining here. Aside from the rice fields, swiddens, fruit trees and forest, people also have pasture lands. These pasture lands are for the carabaos to graze on. These carabaos are kept to work the land. People have told me that the number of carabaos have been dwindling for years. As a result the number of pasture lands has also decreased. Still, there is a lack of pasture land and the people plan to convert their swiddens in pasture lands in the future. In addition to the six things just mentioned, rivers also form an central part of the geographical surroundings of the Guina-ang. The barangays are located near the Pasil river. Fishing is a rare occupation though. There are not too many fish to be found in the river. With regards to other wild animals, there used to be wild deer and boars roaming near the vicinity of the houses and deeper into the forest, but today these animals are rarely spotted anymore,
45 probably because of overhunting practices (Lawless 1973).
The Guinaang tribe The Guinaang see themselves as a tribe, rendered socially distinct from the other tribes in
Kalinga. Most people of the tribe are in a way related by kinship and some people can trace their descent up to the fifth generation. For example, during one talk of many talks with my host Alex in his house, he told me how he and some village mates were related to each other as they were both descendants from chief Atumpa who lived at the start of the last century. Thereafter he gave a detailed explanation of how the kinship lines were connected that made them related to each other. Possessing such a knowledge of their genealogy, it is not surprising then that most people of the tribe know each other. People do not only know how they are related to each other, but are also quite informed with regards to what is going on in each other’s lives. Indeed, as anthropologist James Skibo, who lived in Guinaang for four months in 1988, had already noted “In Guina-ang the thin bamboo walls and the tightly packed houses meant that even behavior within a private residence was subject to public scrutiny” (Skibo 1999: 100). Although during my stay most of the houses now had wooden walls, I concur with the findings of mister Skibo. In fact, one of my informants also stated that ‘the walls and floors in Guinaang have ears and news travels fast’. When I was in Baguio for a short break from the field, I had little news to tell to the relatives of my host in Guina-ang who were staying in Baguio, as they were already updated on my situation there through text messages. The closeness of the houses also reflects the community bond of the people. With this I particularly mean that, whether you are a first, second or third cousin of someone, when there is some kind of celebration people will go and attend the celebration. I have observed that at special occasions, for example when someone’s child will see his or her grandparents for their first time (sibit) the whole village may be invited to come and enjoy the festivity. One sibit was held in March at the courtyard between the houses of Alex and Linda and Amboy and Ida Lingbawan (Alex and Amboy are brothers to each other). It was to celebrate the visit of the first grandchild of Amboy and Ida to their house (the daughter of their daughter Sandy). A sibit is like a blessing for the child/grandchild. People will butcher a pig or chicken for the occasion. In this case a big pig was butchered. During the occasion the villagers were addressing Sandy and her husband, told stories over the reasons for sibit (the husband came
46 from another province and was not familiar with the custom) and they were giving blessings and advice to the couple. Sometimes the speech was answered by a ‘salidomay’ by the people, a traditional chant. I overheard that the sibit being open for a larger public instead of being limited for the immediate kinship circle was a recent trend.
With homages to parents of old age (pusipos) and funeral ceremonies not only the village but also the surrounding barangays are invited and expected to come. Whenever there was a funeral in Pugong, Bagtayan or any of the other barangays people went there to show their respect to the deceased and their family. During these special occasions the hosts will serve the visitors food and the drinks. It is the tradition that an animal will be butchered of which the meat will be served to the visitors. As I have observed this tradition is still being practiced. However, people informed me that the practice can be quite costly, so nowadays it is also allowed to butcher pigs instead of carabaos at occasions like funerals or pusipos.10
Livelihood styles In this paragraph I will show how the livelihoods of the people from Guina-ang and surrounding barangays are organized. First I will describe the everyday social relations between people with regards to their livelihoods. Thereafter, I will go deeper into the specific livelihood strategies as practiced by the Guinaang. First, I will describe strategies of agricultural intensification and extensification, then I will discuss strategies of livelihood diversification and thereafter the phenomenon of migration will be discussed.
Sharing, giving and bayanihan People in Guinaang highly value their sense of community. This has repeatedly come back in my conversations with people from Guina-ang and has been personally witnessed by me. To give just a few examples, I have heard people saying that there would never be a beggar in Baguio city from the Guinaang tribe, because if ever it would be known to the tribe, the person would be brought back to the community and cared for. Another person had told me that unlike in other places, like Tabuk city, people here do not have gates. People do not steal from each other, and even if they do, it would immediately be known who the culprit is.
10 A pusipos is organized by the children of an elderly wed couple. They will celebrate that their parents have reached old age and will pay a homage to their parents. It is a rather big occasion. If the children can afford it they are expected to butcher one carabao each. All neighbouring barangays of the tribe are invited to come and heed witness to the celebration.
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Another example: Alex often told me the importance of community in having a good life:
“The happiest moment of your life is to stand at the midst of your community. That culture, we have to continue.”
“Happiness here is drinking with each other with some polutan. It is doing kaingin with each other and dreaming of a good harvest.”
The importance of the community in daily life is also reflected in what is known as the ‘bayanihan system’ (also see Bankoff 2007; Neefjes and Kunst 2013). Sharing, and especially helping each other out for free is called bayanihan. In the local dialect it is called ang-as and in English people call it counterpart or free counterpart. One can say that it forms a central part in the livelihoods of the Guinaang. Bayanihan, as I have observed during my stay with the Guinaang, is being practiced in a variety of forms, from the construction of a house to farming and mining, and for development projects to special occasions. It is related to the general sharing practices of people, like sharing food and land. For example, when someone regularly borrows food from another person, he can return the favour by helping this person through bayanihan. Sharing and giving is a central practice of the Guinaang. When people are short on rice or coffee they can always borrow from a relative or neighbour They will return the borrowed supply when they are able, but the lender will not ask for it. For example, Lorenzo whom always guided and accompanied me to the mining sites, forgot his flashlight at one of the mining camps. He said that Daniel, the man where he left the light, would be happy about it, because he could use the light and the batteries in his tunnel. Lorenzo said that Daniel will probably take his flashlight and just thank Lorenzo for this. Lorenzo accepted this, even if this flashlight was always used by his father to water the field at night, and his parents may get angry on him for leaving his flashlight there. (As a way of thanking him for his guidance and to help him out, I later bought a flash light in Tabuk city and gave it to Lorenzo). This example shows that some personal belongings are not really considered private property of someone, but are semi-communal goods. There are different reasons why people share as much as they do. One of the reasons is that it has been the custom of the people ever since. Mary: ‘In our culture/tradition if there is a problem we help each other. We share.
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We help one another as taught by our grandparents.’ Another reason is grounded in morality. Alex: ‘Maybe it is our destiny to help the people and our cause is with the people. Our father did not care much for money, but he cared for sharing and for helping others’. Alex himself could have been rich during the golden days of small-scale mining in
Magadgad. Two of his sisters are working for NGOs that help poor rural people and although they have wanted to go abroad, they still stayed at their organizations to continue helping the people. There are also some common sense explanations that people give, which shows how normal, yet important, they find it to share with others. Some of these explanations are: people don’t want their neighbour to die out of hunger. ‘If I have much coffee, why would I not share it with others?’ ‘It is better to share seeds and foods before it gets spoiled.’ And
‘You cannot live without others. The community not only lives from an income, but the community lives from unity and sharing.’ Many times I have heard people say: ‘even though we are poor we are happy’. One of the sayings of the Guinaang is “Uray mo kapus ta basta maganta ket di mamiteo sin algaw”, which roughly translates into ‘though we are poor, we won’t miss a single meal.’ The importance of the daily meals should not be underestimated. When a relative, neighbour or any other fellow villager is passing by a house where people are eating or are ready to eat, people will always say ‘mangan taku’ which means ‘let us eat’. People are sharing their food supplies so others will have enough food to eat, while at the same time they are also sharing the food they have prepared.
Life in the village is often contrasted with life in the city. People say that you have to buy everything in the city. Greg: ‘In Manila it is expensive, you have to buy everything. You go outdoors and buy things. You’ll buy food, and when you take a shower you have to pay for the water.’ Ida: ‘You have to buy everything in Baguio. Here in Guinaang the food is free and you can borrow from others even if you don’t work on your field.’ Life in the village is also contrasted with that of the city with regards to social relations. In the village everyone knows each other and are related to each other, while in the city you do not even know your neighbour. Workload and time is also shared, this is then the bayanihan I have talked earlier about. It is seen as a central practice of the community and practiced out in a myriad of forms, of which I now briefly describe a few.
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Housing One form of bayanihan is when a house is constructed. Relatives and village mates will help in the construction of the house. A house can also be hauled to a new location. This is generally cheaper than building a new house. The house will first be disassembled in its current location and everyone will then carry a part to the new location where it will be constructed. The houses can come from other barangays and even the neighbouring municipality. The people will butcher a pig or carabao for the occasion (personal interviews). In the barangay profile of Galdang this practice is called bakas. “[Bakas] involves dismantling a house or rice granary and transporting all the materials to a new site. The owner makes an announcement of the task at least a day or two before it is undertaken. Early in the morning of the day set, the structure is dismantled starting from the thatch roofing and some of which may be salvaged, bundled and transported to the new place. The owner’s obligation is to butcher a pig” (barangay profile Galdang). One curious form of this that I have witnessed is that of people lifting a house so to construct a new part of the house underneath the original, ground-level part (see figure 12).
Farming In farming, different forms of bayanihan are practiced. People will help each other in planting and harvesting rice. Also chores like pounding rice and peeling beans can be communal affairs. In some occasions someone will help in the making of an uma, a field made through slash and burn practices, a practice I have self participated in for my Guina-ang neighbour Clenner.
Irrigation Closely related to farming is the construction and maintenance of the irrigation system. One example of this is the cleaning of irrigation canals. People from Guina-ang and Galdang help each other in clearing the canals from stones, leaves and plants. Additionally, when a typhoon causes a landslide that covers the canal, bayanihan will be practiced by the beneficiaries of the canal to remove the soil from it. Pathways can also be cleared through bayanihan.
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Mining When people have to carry a ball mill (the mill wherein the gold ore is grinded, see figure 30) to the mining site, they will carry the container using bamboo trunks. This means going up into the mountains on narrow foot trails for two to four hours. The other parts will also be carried by people. Sometimes twenty people will carry the ball mill in shifts. Alex: for this occasion we had butchered a pig and provided San Miguel up to three times of this.
Special occasions On special occasions like sibits, graduations, birthdays, weddings and funerals, people will always help. They will help in preparing the place where the celebration is held, they contribute food and help in preparing the food and they will help in cleaning the venue once the celebration is over. One example is my birthday. Once I announced that I would celebrate my birthday and would butcher a pig and buy pansit for the occasion, the people were thinking what place and time would be best suitable, what foods could be prepared, what foods and drinks they could provide and what the program would look like. Prior to the party and on the day itself all my neighbours helped in the preparation of the party.
Other forms of bayanihan People will get lumber from the forest for construction purposes. Sometimes bayanihan is practiced for this and the person will butcher a dog, pig or carabao. When someone is very ill, particularly in more remote areas, people can carry the ill person to the clinic. This is also referred to as ‘human ambulance’. On my first visit to Bagtayan, when I was heading back to Guina-ang I became ill, and people offered to bring me to Guina-ang in this way. I still felt strong enough to walk on my own so I refused the offer.
Summing up this paragraph, it can be argued that what people miss in productive/economic capital they largely make up with their social capital. Yet, sometimes some extra money is much welcomed. Job opportunities in the direct vicinity of Guina-ang are limited and the cash economy is small. That is why most of the families do not have much money to spend. People have enough food to eat every day, but there is not much cash in Guina-ang and the surrounding barangays. The basic daily necessities can be paid for, but payments of larger sums of money can be hard. For example, sending your children to college is not always easy.
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There are different ways by which people cope with this situation, one of this is by increasing the productivity and profitability of agriculture.
Agricultural intensification and extensification
The majority of the Guinaang are farmers and have small fields they grow food on. For most of them, the fields they own is less than one hectare (personal interviews). Some Guinaang have fields that are at least one hectare wide, but these are in Tabuk. The fields are mostly used to cultivate rice for family consumption. However, people have told me that the rice supply from the fields is only good for half a year maximum. It is for this reason that rice is the most important commodity that people need to buy. People have to buy cavans of rice in
Tabuk, for around 1000 pesos per sack. The money to pay for this seldom comes from agricultural work alone (see next paragraph). In Guina-ang all the crops are grown organically. This means that no pesticides are applied and the fertilizers are organic fertilizers. There are some instances in which high yielding varieties are being tested and chemical fertilizer and pesticides are applied, but these cases are few and between. For instance, I have interviewed one person from Bagtayan that said that a few individuals experimented with it. The people related that they scarcely use machines for their work. Some people will use a hand tractor instead of a carabao, but because these are quite expensive, not many people are using these, and if they do, they hire them from others that own one. In short, agricultural intensification, particularly with regards to rice farming is not much used as a livelihood strategy. With regards to risk factors of farming, people told me that strong typhoons do not occur so much in Guinaang. Yet, on the few occasion they pass by, the damage to the crops can be very large. There are a few instances of fields laying dry around Guina-ang. Droughts are mostly the result of a lack of a good working irrigation system. Besides natural hazards, more common problems for farmers are pests like rats, insects and birds. Part of the harvest, maybe around one third, can be lost because of this. Not many new fields are being constructed around Guina-ang even if the people would want it. It cannot be, because there is a lack of irrigation. At the time of writing, the Center for Development Projects in the Cordillera (CDPC) was working on an irrigation project, together with the farmers of Guina-ang. For Guinaang farmers shortages of irrigation and land is one of the main problems they face. If there will be no remedies to this problem,
52 the problem will only become bigger, because the newer generations would find themselves without land to inherit. According to the Guinaang inheritance system, sons are entitled to the fields, while daughters are entitled to the house. When a couple owns some rice fields, the first son will inherit some of the rice fields, and then the second son will also inherit some.
However, because people do not have vast areas of rice fields, but have many children, the youngest sons will find themselves without any rice field to work on. This would not be a big problem if it would be easy to make a new rice field. Yet, if new rice fields would be constructed there would not be enough irrigation to give water to all the fields, at least in barangay Guina-ang. Already during the dry period, one part of the fields is given water during day time, while the other part gets water during nighttime. I have personally observed how people go to the fields at night carrying their flashlights to redirect the water to their fields. In short, because of the lack of irrigation it is no use to make new rice fields. So, if someone in Guina-ang today wants to make a living through farming, this can be quite problematic. Even in the surrounding barangays where there is sufficient irrigation like Bagtayan and Pugong, hardly any new fields are being made. While hardly any fields are being added to the existing pool of fields, the population has increased. I have estimated that the average number of children in a family is around six or seven, and because there is hardly any prevalence of birth control or family planning, the population has increased more than exponentially. But, while the Guinaang have increased in number, people say that their rice fields have not increased much. So, with regards to agricultural extensification of rice fields, little is being done. One person of barangay Malucsad added:
I don’t have land to make a rice field, nor do other people of my generation. I don’t own the land, others do. Even if it is our land, we don’t make rice fields. We are the poorest and we already have much work to do. Like working for people who have money. And those who have money, those are the ones that buy rice fields. For example if you have a debt of 10.000 pesos with interest and you cannot pay it back… the owner will get a rice field from you. You can pay back, but it takes at least a year. – Genuo
So, instead of new rice fields being build, the common practice is buying new rice fields. The lack of newly constructed rice fields is not that big a problem, because many people from the
53 younger generations would like to make a living through other means than farming. The youth, nowadays, prefer other kinds of work. While most of the parents could not go to college, because of a lack of finance, the current generation finds itself in a time where going to college and earning a degree is a real possibility. One elderly man from barangay
Bagtayan told me how he regretted not being able to go to school, so now he will tries his very best to, at least, let his children go to school. He said to me:
“Generally the people here are able to provide money for their children’s college tuition fees, especially if the children really want to go to college. My ambition for my children is for them to enjoy an education. I am willing to sacrifice and work hard for that.”
Although the man is willing to work hard for it, hard work alone may not be sufficient, at least not only working hard on the farm. This is because cash crops are found far and between in the barangays of the tribe. The net production for the market is low. An assessor from the municipal government told me that there is no trading post in Tabuk where the farmers can sell their products. Still I have found that, in contrast to rice, the yield of other crops like coffee, oranges and sugarcane is increasing. Furthermore, there are plans for coffee to be reintroduced and rehabilitated, and it is likely that sugarcane plantations will increase as sugarcane crushers, delivered by the Montañosa Research and Development Center (part of the CDPC-CPA network) have arrived in Guina-ang. So, while agricultural extensification is rare, there are some forms of agricultural intensification taking place. Still, even with an increase in the production of these crops, the production for the market is very limited. People told me that they may sell some fruits and surplus coffee, and that others will sell some rattan and soft brooms, but the income one gets from this is not all that much. One can get some cash through agricultural work by helping others on their fields with, for example, ploughing and planting. Yet this is occasional work, which means that it can only be done during the times it is needed, which is limited. All in all, it is hard to imagine that one can get rich in Guina-ang with farming alone. At least, I never met a rich farmer during my three-month stay in Guina-ang. Therefore, I argue that exclusively adopting the livelihood strategies of agricultural intensification and extensification as a livelihoods style is pursued successfully only by a few. While I was discussing this with Alex while when we were on our way back from the mining site, he disagreed with me somewhat:
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“With farming you can also become rich.” He said. “If you harvest white beans, you can sell these beans and with the money you earn from this you can buy a pig. You can raise the pig and it can bear piglets. These piglets you can sell, and you can buy a carabao with the money you earn from that. Finally, you can raise that carabao and sell it.”
While I was just thinking that there could be a truth in this, Alex quickly added:
Still, there are restrictions on becoming rich as a farmer. Or ‘controls’. There are rituals like pusipos and burials for which you have to butcher pigs and carabaos.”
Having attended and observed these ritual several times, I then realized that these rituals can indeed be quite expensive, and so are the college fees parents have to pay for their children (not to mention any unexpected hospital bills). Farming could bring you some money, but in order to do so, you would have to be able to escape all the social obligations you have to your kin so that you would not have to pay for these. For this, you would have to be quite isolated from the community, but clearly no one really was. Therefore people did not exclusively focus on farming and agricultural intensification/extensification as a livelihood strategy. As a matter of fact, Alex himself was one of the leading pioneers of small-scale mining and was still mining in the hopes of earning some additional money. He now had three children that were enrolled in college and he was responsible for paying their tuition fees. The truth is that many people from the Guina-ang were looking for other sources of income than farming. They may still practice farming, but do so in combination with another livelihood activity. This leads me to the second livelihood strategy, that of livelihood diversification.
Diversification In analyses of rural livelihoods, peasants are no longer seen as rural people who are solely or primarily engaged in farming. Scholars involved in a range of disciplines like economy, sociology, social geography, development studies and anthropology have come to the realization that for peasants, farming is just one economic activity among many (Ellis 2000;
Rigg 2005, 2006; Schüren 2003; Start and Johnson 2004). While it is now widely acknowledged that today peasants are active in a broad spectrum of work activities besides
55 farming, this has also been the case in earlier periods (Francks 2005; Schüren 2003). Today however, scholars witness that the involvement of peasants in agricultural activities is actually declining and peasants are more often involved in so called ‘non-farm activities’ than before (Davis et al. 2009) (see Dressler and Fabinyi 2011: Eder 1993; Hayami and Kikuchi 2000 for cases in the Philippines). This is also true for the Guinaang. For Guinaang men, popular side jobs are to work as a carpenter and mason. They also use their skills for certain projects implanted by NGOs or the local government. Some men are quite skilled in being a carpenter and therefore also spend more time on this and get more income from this than others. They can go to barangays farther away or to Tabuk to lend their services. However, although the demand for carpenters and masons may be more than that of the occasional extra agricultural work, it is still limited. For women, popular side jobs are to work at a day care centre, have a temporary job at the local government, or, what is generally done, work as a domestic helper abroad (more on working abroad in the following paragraph). Yet, overall, the job opportunities in the vicinity of Guina-ang for work other than farming is rather limited. People can increase their chance on a well-paying job by getting a college degree. That is why parents are so pressed that their children will finish their education. People who live and stay in Pasil, and who do earn a reasonable amount of money are the government employees. Teachers and government officials with a salary and regular pay check, have, besides a reasonable level of income, also some income security. The meagre income of farmers on the one hand and the reasonable income of government employees on the other hand has brought some income disparity between members of the tribe. My findings resonate that of Stark and Skibo who have found that in Pasil “a new wealthy class has emerged among college graduates and those employed by the government” (Stark and Skibo 2007: 99). Most of these government employees are located in a separate sitio, that of
Amdalao. So the income disparity is also expressed spatially. This dichotomy between farmers on the one hand and government employees on the other hand has expressed itself in the Makilala struggle. Government employees were mostly pro-Makilala, while most of the farmers were against Makilala. This has to do with the fact that the government employees are less dependent on the direct natural environment for their livelihood than the farmers.
One job opportunity I have left out of the picture so far, is that of small-scale mining. Banchirigah and Hilson (2010) state that small-scale mining has become an important topic
56 in the literature of international development in general, but that as a non-farm activity it has been particularly overlooked in the discourse of rural livelihood diversification. Nevertheless, some relevant insights have been gained. According to the literature, the reasons why people engage in small-scale mining can be brought under two general explanations. One of these explanations is that people turn to mining in the hope to get rich quickly. In this view small- scale mining is seen as a ‘rush-type industry’. Seen in this light mining is as a risk strategy. This means that people are lured to mining in the hope of finding rich deposits of valuable minerals to get a bonus on their already adequate income (Banchirigah and Hilson 2010: 160; Hilson 2009: 3). However, sometimes the chances of attaining riches are exaggerated and the risks involved in mining activities are downplayed by these miners (Heemskerk 2002: 328).
The other explanation, the one that applies to most cases, is that people are turning to mining activities to make ends meet (Banchirigah and Hilson 2010: 160). In this case mining is seen as coping behaviour. According to this view small-scale miners are driven by poverty and not lured by richness. The argument of this perspective is that when people cannot earn enough money from agriculture alone, they turn to mining to supplement their income
(Banchirigah and Hilson 2010:161). In reality, of course, these two explanations can be mixed. A person can undertake mining to offset the meagre income he earns through farming and to pay off debts while at the same time he (or she) may hope to get rich quickly. So it is for the Guinaang. For the Guinaang small-scale miners, mining is a risk strategy and coping behaviour in one. On the one hand are they trying their luck to earn some extra money and on the other hand are they mining because they often really need this money, for example to be able to pay the tuition fees of their children.
Small-scale mining practices of the Guinaang: mining in Ginobat Ginobat, the forest. Far away from their homes, between rugged mountains and near the winding river there lies the camps of the small-scale miners (see figure 26 to 33). It takes about five hours reaching the site, five hours by foot. No cars, no motorcycles: just the miners equipped with their rubber boots and their backpacks full of supplies. The miners will usually stay there for a week or two. When the miners are out of supplies they will go back to town to replenish their supplies and strength.
Yet, for many Guinaang miners, mining is only done intermittently. The gains from mining simply do not always meet the costs of the operation. And it is only when people
57 have supplies that they can go the site. So, most of the miners will try their luck for a few weeks and if they do not have found enough gold to offset the costs of their inputs, they have to go back to town and seek other ways to earn an income. In Guina-ang, mining is a matter of luck. It is a form of gambling that comes with a lot of hard work.
Benny, one of the old miners, said that a geologist had visited the mining site one time and observed the mining practices of the people there. The geologist concluded ‘it is really a shame. Of all the gold that the people process, they only obtain about 30% of it. The rest of the gold is simply wasted’. And that really is a shame, because the mining expeditions would be much more profitable if the people were able to extract a higher percentage of the gold that is encapsulated in the ores. Still, there are ways to increase the amount of gold one obtains. One way is by using chemicals, in particular mercury or cyanide. The Guinanes, do not use cyanide. Some are using mercury, but prohibitions and increasing knowledge of the hazardous effects to one’s health has decreased the number of people using it. While they do not face real environmental danger the miners experience two major problems which I have observed. First, they do not exactly know where the gold is located. Second, if they find any gold, they only get so much of it. In short, mining does not seem to be so profitable. So why is it then that there are still people mining and new camps are being built in the forest? Through my interviews I gathered that while farming can give a person a steady income, the income is low. With mining however, one may not have the certainty of a steady income, but one has the chance to earn a lot of money at once. This is an amount of money that someone from Guina-ang cannot earn with honest farm work alone. It is not a coincidence that many miners are single men without wife and children. They do not have to support a family and when they face losses in mining they bear it alone, not their whole family. They bear not the responsibility of a family man. Some men from Bagtayan also told me that when it happens that they find a lot of gold, they can go out to the city, go to bars and enjoy drinking and, perhaps, some company of women. Occasionally a group or individual will find some high grade ore. And once they do, word will be out and everyone at the mining site, and, a bit later, in the barrios, will know they have hit high grade. This is the time that the people will flock to the mine and ask the owners for a share for themselves. This practice has been practiced since the beginning of small-scale mining, and it is still being practiced as of today. It is called extra.
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It was in 1990. It was Christmas time. Of course we did not continue working the mine but we went down to the houses to celebrate Christmas. At that time I was the gate keeper. I was the one responsible for closing the gate of the tunnel. We were just preparing ourselves to go, and there they stood. There must have been at least thirty-four people lined outside the tunnel, including two ladies, hoping to have some extra. I was not responsible for the tunnel, as Manau was the group leader, but he already went ahead. We had to ask Manau. So, one of the people that were waiting, jumped on his feet and went down to ask Manau. It took him only three hours to come back. Manau had said that it was okay for the people to mine the tunnel. […] So, during that time we lost a lot of money, but we made a lot of people happy. Years later, one of the ladies thanked me, because she was able to go abroad with the money she got from the tunnel.
So, when one groups find some high grade, others can do extra. They are allowed to work in the tunnel for half a day, one day, and perhaps two days if they are lucky. The ore they wrench from the tunnel walls is theirs and the gold that comes out is for themselves. This form of social capital functions as a redistributive mechanism, through which the riches of one, becomes the riches of many. I wondered if people did not feel any regrets or bitterness of sharing their gold after all the work they had put in it to find it. I have found that while some may have felt a bit of regret, in the end they know they did the good thing. Alex:
Out of 100 persons maybe two or three got lucky. There were three groups with high grade before, but there was a lot of extra. If you would take the gold only for yourself your conscience would be guilty for not sharing it. The forest is communal so the product is also communal.
Small-scale mining is working and hoping at once. Stories of other groups finding a lot of gold, witnessing high grade ore through extra, experiences with getting high grade ore in the past, and hearing and seeing people buy expensive things, all feeds the belief and hope that one will hit the jackpot in the future, even if this means having to share it with other people.
That is why people are still mining and new camps are being constructed. After all, in the past people have bought rice fields, bought carabaos and constructed houses through their
59 mining efforts. Today, people are also buying refrigerators, washing machines and televisions. Mining is a risky endeavour, but it can pay off double the investment put into it, that is, if you are lucky.
There are maybe 4 or 5 groups from Guinaang mining nowadays. Before there were 20 groups, in 1990. Nowadays there is a lack of finance. The grams you get will only be used for the food. Sometimes there is a good sample and we will mill it. You need luck [gasat]. If you do not have luck, maybe you can transfer to a group with a good sample.
However, while some people have been lucky, others have been unlucky. I have talked to a miner from Bagtayan who has been mining for three years without making any profits. And then there are the accidents. At least five people have died in the tunnel they were working in. In 2012 two people had died because of gasses in the tunnel. Their limbs got numb and they succumbed to the ground. Two more have died because of gasses in the tunnel, and one person died in a cave-in. One informant that guided me to the mining site, recalled the day that he almost died:
The gas came like a gust of wind, I could not move my joints and succumbed to the ground. When I was struck by the gas my muscles and joints became weak, I could not move a pinch. The gas was like a cloud, you could not see far, even if you flashed your light, it could not penetrate the gas. The more and faster you moved the more gas you inhaled. The gas went into my lungs and I felt wanting to drink a lot of water. When I was struck by the gas, I was way down the tunnel. Alex found me, he had to carry me up. So he picked me from the ground, put me over his shoulder and climbed up out of the tunnel. When I regained my consciousness outside the tunnel I immediately put my head into the nearest pool of water, because my brain felt like breaking. After that, for one week I barely slept and did not eat. At that time, when I was lying there on the ground, I really thought I would die there in the tunnel.
From my interviews I gathered that from 1986 to 2014 there have been at least five accidents leading to death in Ginobat, four which involved poisonous gas.
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In short, for the Guinaang, mining is a risk strategy and coping behaviour in one. On the one hand are people trying their luck to earn some extra money with the risk of getting injured and even death, and on the other hand are they mining because they often really need this money, for example to be able to pay the tuition fees of their children. The mining pioneers had told me that, on the whole, the income of mining is not much more than one earns with farming. There are some people who are lucky, they told me, and who may earn some large amount of money in a good go, but this was mostly so in the past or it occurs predominantly in different places, not in Ginobat. Indeed, one small-scale miner I had interviewed, had mined both in Ginobat and in neighbouring Ga-ang, Balbalan. ‘For sure’, he told me, ‘in Ga-ang people can earn a lot more money’.
Ramon Lagiucao: I started mining here since 2014. I worked in Ga-ang before. Ga-ang is located near Bolloy Alan. You go up two mountains and then you go down. It is like a barangay now. The camps are located near each other. There are about 470 camps in Ga-ang. Some of the houses there are even made out of concrete. I moved to here [ginobat], because we had no finance. I’m half Balbalan (Balbalasang) and half Pasilian.
I’m staying here in Umbog [in ginobat] to earn money. I’ve stayed here for one year. It takes a long time to find gold in Ga-ang, but when you find it, it is 1 kilo, or even 2 to 3 kilos. Here [in Ginobat] it is only 100 to 200 grams, maybe 300 grams. But, in Ga-ang, when there is no finance, you cannot work there.
This description by Ramon resonates with the accounts of the people from the Guinaang who have said that small-scale mining in Ga-ang is generally more profitable than in Ginobat. For the Guinaang, mining in Ginobat does not ensure that you will earn a lot of money. Rather than a practical livelihood strategy, small-scale mining is mostly a relative easily accessible opportunity, hope or promise to earn a reasonable amount of money, not necessarily a real reasonable source of income. But then again, when a group hits high grade ore, they can have a lot money and advance their livelihoods.
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So to summarize, diversifying one’s livelihood to small-scale mining and other occupations is a livelihood strategy that can enhance the livelihoods of people, particularly in that it can earn the people some money which would be hard to earn with farming alone. By finding additional work to farming, people that did not enjoy a higher education can still earn a reasonable amount of money. James Amangan from Guina-ang for example is a farmer, carpenter and occasionally works as a small-scale miner. Another informant, my neighbour in Guina-ang, Mario had worked as a small-scale miner before and is a carpenter, but his main income comes from working as a construction sector in Uzbekistan. Just like Mario many other residents of Guina-ang are working abroad; a form of livelihood diversification outside Guina-ang.
Migration Bebbington (1999: 2027), writing about peasants in the Andes, states that “where agricultural intensification has been limited, and other rural employment absent, the principal livelihood adaption has been temporary or permanent migration”. ‘With the help of remittances sent back by kin, people are able to continue practicing subsistence agriculture, while at the same time better their lot, for example by considerable improving their housing conditions’. It appears that this strategy “hinges around having the motivation and skills to enter higher paid labour markets and having the social networks to gain access to work opportunities”
(Bebbington 1999: 2027). This resonates with my findings in Guinaang. Migration is a popular livelihood strategy for the Guinaang. It is a way to circumvent the local job market which offers only limited jobs and large parts of the money earnt abroad will be turned into remittances. These remittances form a vital part of the current economy of Guinaang.
Through my interviews I have learnt that money that is earned abroad will be used to pay back debts, to construct houses, to pay for the college of siblings, to pay for hospital fees and whatever is needed back home, like the renovation of the old catholic church building. In this paragraph I will take a closer look at migration as a livelihood strategy. Many Guinaang boys are going to Subic Bay to work. In Subic, as it is commonly called, they hire people that have not acquired a college degree. It is because of this, that many out of school youth are going there. Subic Bay is situated in Olongapo, in the province of Zambales in North Luzon. There is a Korean company operating there that constructs
62 cargo ships. Karen Tagway: ‘Before, young people would just stay at the homes and jam. Now they are going to Subic and going abroad’. The older generations of the Guinaang, while maybe not so much as the younger generations, were also going outside the municipality to seek employment. Many of them, like Alex Lingbawan, Ignacio Latawan, Manuel Latawan and Tommy Mabanag, have worked for a mining company in other parts of the Philippines. The pay was not always that high, it depended on their position in the company, but at least they had a steady income. Besides migrating within the Philippines, people from Guina-ang are also migrating to destinations outside the country. From my interviews I gathered that people were going to many places in the world like the United States, Japan, Austria, Denmark, Uzbekistan and
Cyprus, but the most popular destinations are Dubai, Saudi-Arabia, Hong Kong, Taiwan, Korea and Canada (also see figures 13-16). Because, the job opportunities in the direct vicinity of Guinaang are limited and the cash economy is small, many people try to find work outside the community. Indeed, aside from earning a college degree, going abroad is another aspiration for many Guinaang. A great many people from Guinaang and surrounding barangays are working abroad. In Guina- ang, almost half of the households have someone abroad (see figures 13-16). Knowing that most of the people do not have much money, it is surprising to see that many people can afford to go abroad and work there. Yet, in most cases this is an investment as people will have to borrow money to make it possible. Therefore, in almost all cases, when people start working abroad, they and their family have a debt. In their daily lives people do not have much money to spend, so when money is spent for the job abroad, these expenses have to be recovered. The money for the expenses of the trip and stay abroad will be paid back from the work abroad (personal interviews). Depending on their qualifications people will either work as a professional or a skilled labourer. The women will work mostly as domestic helper, while the men will work mostly in the construction sector. People that go abroad, sometimes stay away for a very long period. They can have contracts for four to five years, during which they will not return home. Common are two-year-contracts that can be extended for another two years (personal interviews). Of course, loneliness befalls many of the migrants, but fortunately there are many other Filipinos that are working in the same countries. Skibu the son of Alex, nicknamed after the anthropologist Skibo, is 26 years old. He has worked abroad in Saudi-Arabia for five years
63 straight. He was operating a drilling- and blasting machine there for a Korean mining company. He told me how there are ‘a million’ Filipinos working there from all over the Philippines and he had met many Filipinos there. Some of them are also from Kalinga and the Cordillera. As he told me, and was confirmed by his father, Skibu always sent remittances back to his family, among other things for the hospital fees of his younger sister who had complications with her heart. The occurrence of migration and remittances fits in the Philippine context, where certainly 10 million people, as much as 10 percent of the Philippine population, is overseas and of which 2,3 million are considered an OFW or Overseas Filipino Worker (Commission on Filipinos Overseas 2015; Philipines Statistics Authority 2014)
According to one of the returnees, the lure to work abroad is big, because compared to average wages in the Philippines, the pay abroad is really a big deal.
“Many people go abroad, because the salary is much higher than in the Philippines. People with similar salaries here are those working as government employees. They can earn as much 25.000 pesos a month. [For comparison] the mayor earns about 40.000 pesos a month. At the MSWD (municipal social welfare development) you can earn about 26.000 pesos a month. Others earn 16.000 pesos a month. As a barangay captain you will earn 10.000 pesos quarterly and as a kagawad 7000 pesos.” - Amasi
Amasi is currently working for the municipal social welfare and development office, she has graduated development communication. However, when she was 23 years old she left for Taiwan and worked there for three years. In this way she could earn additional money for her family, as she is the oldest of her five siblings. She went to Taiwan after she had heard from a cousin, who was working there for a local family, that another family there also wanted a helper and that they preferred a Filipina. She applied for the job and got it. She told me she would just ‘work and work and work’ there and that life there is good, as long as you have a good employer. She returned to Guina-ang when her contract was finished and was thinking of going to South-Korea. In fact, during the time of my stay she was preparing for a Korean language test.
The reason people want to work abroad is because of the high pay. In the words of an elder returnee from barangay Pugong:
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“If you want a big house you go abroad or work for the office of the municipal government.”
“I worked in Korea for 8 years: from 2001 to 2007. I stayed there illegal. But I got sick and I had to go home. I worked there as a textile factory worker and I made cell phones. If it was not for me getting sick, I would have stayed there. I have a house, rice field and a small lot in Tabuk. If I would not have gone to Korea, I would not have a house and lot in Tabuk now. I didn’t go out too much, because I would have risked being caught, put in prison and returned to the Philippines.”
Normally, people will stay legally abroad, but this was just an exceptional case. However, what I want to show with this and the other examples is that that working abroad opens up quite some possibilities for the Guinaang and is therefore a popular livelihood strategy to pursue. In Guina-ang, going abroad is almost as normal as working in another city. This can be noted from the fact that about everyone has got a near relative that is currently working abroad or has been working abroad in the recent past. Going abroad is one of the common options in the range of livelihood choices, and it is popular because of the higher pay compared to the other options available. But, going abroad is more than just wanting a house and lot in Tabuk. Going abroad means that there will be money available for your siblings to go to college, it means that you do not always have to borrow money, it means paying off your debts. In short, going abroad opens up a range of opportunities for the people, which would otherwise be hard to access. For example, some people will use the money to run for candidate in the local elections and others can buy land in the Tabuk city with the money. The money is being used to advance in the livelihoods at home.
So far, in this chapter I have described different livelihood strategies of the Guinaang. I have talked about the limited livelihood strategy of agricultural intensification, the diversification to side jobs like carpentry to make ends meet, the hopes of finding a lot of gold in mining and the opportunities to work abroad. What this shows is that people do not focus on one livelihood strategy, but rather are mixing up the three livelihood strategies, turning it into a distinct livelihood style. In addition to this, the livelihood styles of bayanihan and the
65 practices of sharing and giving enables people to make ends meet even while facing disappointing returns in farming. Central in these livelihood styles is ‘social capital’. The last part of this chapter will take a further look into this element of the livelihoods of the Guinaang.
Social capital in the livelihood strategies of people IFAGPI, the Indigenous Farmers Association of Guinaang Pasil Incorporated, has several projects to help the farmers and boost their productivity. The attempts to blow new life in the coffee production and the newly started sugarcane project (to produce muscovado an organic molasses), which has been mentioned earlier in this chapter, are made possible through IFAGPI. IFAGPI was created in 2013 and during the time of research had about 200 members. The board of the organization also attends seminars dealing about farmer issues as embedded in the national and regional context. The organization is supported by NGOs like the TMK (Timpuyog ti Mannalon iti Kalinga or Kalinga peasant federation) and the CDPC. IFAGPI has also been a central force in the struggle against Makilala and strongly voiced its dissent of the mining plans. Meanwhile, Guinasla, Guinaang Alternative Savings and Loan Associations, makes it attractive for people to borrow money. Guinasla is an organization for and by the Guinaang. The members are almost exclusively women. Most women of barangay Guina-ang are member of the association. Borrowing money here comes with an interest rate of 3%, that is a huge difference with the 15% or 20% that private lenders charge as interest on their loans. The first time I got to know about Guinasla was when I met Marcela after the church service on Sunday. First, I met her directly after the service and then again when I was having coffee with capitana (the wife of the barangay captain) in her house. She invited me to go the monthly Guinasla gathering that happened to be on that day. So, I went to the assembly and after the assembly I spoke with Marcela about Guinasla. She explained to me that she has been the treasurer of Guinasla for 12 years now (since October 2002), but that she actually had grown bored of it and liked to resign. Being the treasurer is voluntary work. The members of Guinasla proposed that the money collected from the fines can serve as her salary. But she refused to do that. ‘How can I collect that money as my salary while the people are hard-up in collecting it in the first place?’ she told me. She thanked God that she
66 was able to finance her children to go to college through Guinasla. She has always borrowed from Guinasla. She hopes that when her children have a job they can help in paying back her loans that she has contracted for their studies.
So far, I have talked about the crucial role of social capital in the livelihoods of the Guinaang. I have talked about practices of bayanihan and sharing and giving on the kinship level, and about mutual support through organizations on the barangay level (IFAGPI and Guinasla). Yet, there are also possibilities of conflict. This can be played out on different scales. This will be discussed in the last part of this chapter. The brief description of this will be helpful to situate the livelihoods of the Guinaang in its wider context and to better understand the mining struggle that be described in chapter seven.
Levels of social organization: clans, barangay community and tribe The Guinaang tribe consists of different levels of social organization. Earlier I have talked about sharing and giving practices between people within a barangay. This has been discussed through a livelihood perspective. In this paragraph I will look more closely at the social relations between clans, barangays and tribes. This will be discussed from a micro- political perspective.
Clans
Although it was never defined precisely what a clan was, I gathered that it denotes a group of relatives related through kinship going back as far as at least five generations. Clans are not totally uniform as intermarriage between clans also occurs:
Hilario, Manau and me are direct descendants of Atumpa. One person of our clan married to the Bonggad clan. For this reason we are not fighting with each other. Maybe we are boxing only, because if we would really be fighting, we would be fighting the relatives of our relatives. We don’t want to do that. - Alex
I did not record how many clans the Guinaang have. I only know through interviews that in the barangays Pugong and Galdang there are about seven to eight clans each. There are eight clans in Pugong: Mayong, Jupan, Balingao, Dayag, Ampo, Bulawit, Banagao and
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Tongdo-Abacan. In Galdang the clans are: Alunday, Mossing, Lamao, Gunday, Massagan, Mamano and Liagao. In normal circumstances clans interact with each other on a friendly basis, for example through bayanihan. From what I have observed people from one family circle or clan will help each other in a myriad of ways. They can offer employment if possible, they will give or lend money, they will give advice and support in times of need, they will share food, they will lighten the workload of each other, they will borrow out materials or equipment and they will spend time drinking together or going to occasions; basically, the forms of sharing and giving I have discussed earlier. Despite these forms of mutual support within clans, and also between clans, conflict between clans is a real possibility. To show that this is not just a hypothesis, one just has to take a look at the past.
There was a clan war in Guina-ang around 1980. The father of Iso was the offender. He would steal animals and grab land. There was a war between different factions. He had to pay and give rice fields and land.– Rico11
There may exist some rivalries between clans, and the appearance of Makilala in the lives of the Guina-ang has exacerbated these rivalries.
‘The side that opposes Makilala think of the future. The others are only thinking of filling their own pockets. Politicians are abusing their position. They don’t want to listen to the common people. They will scold them or say ‘who are you anyway?’. […] for the common people it is dangerous and difficult if they are treated that way. If some will be hurt there may be a clan war. But the common people can avoid that, they know how to preserve peace.’
Barangay community As I have explained above, different clans from the tribe live with each other in a barangay. The barangay on its own can also be considered a social unit. Some occasions and festivities are only held within the barangay, while others are for all barangays to participate in. Examples of the former are birthdays and picnics and examples of the latter are pusipos,
11 The name Rico is a pseudonym
68 funerals and barangay fiestas. Barangays are also the smallest government units of the Philippines. Therefore it is the basic stage on which micro-politics is played out. A barangay is governed by a barangay council. This council is directly chosen by the residents of the barangay. In recent times the legitimacy of the council has come under fire.
This is because it is argued that money is being used to win elections. When there were no barangay councils, the elders were the ones that governed the barangay. From my interviews and readings I gathered that in the past, the system was so that if you were an elder, and you would be wise, people would acknowledge you as a leader. Now, with the introduction of elections and the money economy things have changed. The argument runs in two ways. On the one hand are the people who say that politicians are buying votes by handing out money to voters in return for a vote. Instead of winning through their political plans, they are winning by having money. This also implies that the poorer people cannot really run as a candidate, because they do not have enough funds to get themselves into the government. Yet, reversely, one informant told me how politicians have to give money to the voters, because otherwise the people will not vote for them. They will only vote for those who will give them money. In short, some voters are blaming politicians for their selfishness, while politicians may blame the voters for greediness. Whoever is right, the practice of using money to win elections implies that politics becomes economized. Richer people may disproportionately end up in the government, not truly representing the poorer people and their interests.
Some of the people I have spoken with referred to the practice as dirty politics. They were referring to the corruption practices during elections. The term dirty politics was also coined when I was talking with people about Makilala.
There is corruption now. If you do not use money you are not chosen. People practice dirty politics. The same with Makilala, they also use dirty politics. It has local connections with politicians here. Especially with the holding offices: the mayor, governor and on the national level the senator.
Not only the mayor and governor were accused to side with Makilala, some people also told me that they suspected all the barangay captains to be in favour of Makilala (although people were not all too sure about the captain of Guina-ang). A confidant from Pugong said to me about the barangay captain of Pugong:
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[...... ] is one of the contact persons of Makilala. He will get an incentive of 4000 pesos a month. The same with the captain of Pugong. But for now, I don’t know if that is still the case. I am a neutral person. [...] During election time Makilala helped the barangay captain. That was in 2014. I heard that Makilala financed the election campaign.
While a person from Guina-ang said about the other captains:
The captains from Galdang and Bagtayan do the same. All of them went to the side of Makilala when they won the elections. If there are really more pro Makilala people it will show during election. The captain here tries to be neutral. He is going with the people. He will apply majority rule. First he joined us, but when the days past he joined the other side. The side of the government administration. He got pressured. It is very clear the people are after their personal interest, their own gain. They want a higher position in politics. It was different when the elders where still living. Now, of the elders, only [...... ] is left. He is different, he will not commit treason.’
The person in question laments the fact that politicians of today are only in it for their own gains. He compares it to ‘when the elders were still living’, because, back in the old days, the council of elders had more power than the barangay captains. Another person commented that, in the old days, the elders were more principled than the elders now:
We do not have money to convince the people. Our means is to educate them and to be able to talk well. During the time of Newcrest/Newmoon [a mining company, see next chapter] the people were more disciplined and not so hungry for money, especially the elders. But these elders died.
In short, while people may identify themselves with their barangay during special occasion like barangay fiestas, they may distance themselves from the barangay council, and especially the barangay captain. This is not to say that all barangay councillors are pro-Makilala, as I have talked to several councillors from Guina-ang who were clearly against the mining company. Yet, all in all, different persons have told me how not only the barangay captains but ‘dirty politicians’ in general were siding with Makilala while disregarding the ‘common
70 people’. This could also overlap with clan loyalties. As one confidant told me about his clan and the rival clan:
With regards to followers, many are with us, the farmers. It are only the land grabbers, money makers and dirty politicians that are with them.
The tribe as social unit
So far, I have discussed social relations between people on the level of the family, the clan, the barangay and the municipality. I have demonstrated how the social relationships on the kinship level play a central role in the livelihoods of people. I have also shown how, on the family clan level, rivalries can exist and how Makilala can re-inforce these rivalries. These relationships are all played out within the tribe. Yet, the last level of social capital I will describe here, is that of the tribe itself. The tribe will act as one tribe when dealing with other tribes. For example, in 2010, when a member of the Guinaang tribe was shot by people from the Balatoc, the whole Guinaang tribe was offended and acted as one against the Balatoc. The person was shot because of a boundary dispute between the two tribes. The Guinaang stated that the Balatoc wanted to extend their boundary, but the Guinaang refused to do so. A probable explanation according to some key informants is that the Balatoc wanted the area for the gold that may be located there. I will give a brief account of what happened.
In 2010, a group from Balatoc went to Guina-ang and launched shots at two men who were working in their fields. One was hit in the stomach. He died when he was brought to the hospital, 100 metres away from the hospital. The man was a relative from residents of Guina- ang. The other man survived that attack. Rico, thinking back of that time, told me:
The Guina-ang went out for revenge (kayaw). We went there twice. One time to defend the area, the other time to launch an attack. We were grouped 40-40-40. […] The attack was frustrated, because some of us who stayed behind had already informed the Balatoc of the incoming attack. When we heard this we cancelled our attack.
One of the residents of barangay Guina-ang had a slightly different recollection of what
71 occurred:
The Guinaang tribe did not go to Balatoc. We just armed ourselves to defend ourselves. Because of danger we did not want to go there. About 100+ persons were armed.
For almost three months, night and day we were guarding, expecting an assault from the Balatoc.
In the end the conflict was settled with a peace pact and the offenders paid an amount of money to the widow of the deceased person. According to one informant, they paid 150.000 pesos. Yet it remains a topic of debate where the boundary is located. In determining where the boundary is located, the people rely on oral histories. However, as Horowitz (2002: 43) has pointed out in the case of the Kanak in New Caledonia ‘there are almost always differing versions of these histories’. ‘Individuals are able to draw upon certain kin relations, ancestors’ itineraries and remembered exchanges in order to assert their own perceived rights and to deny those of others’. What Horowitz writes with regards to villagers in New Caledonia also applies to the villagers of the five barangays in which I conducted my field work. One person of the tribe explained how it is decided where the boundary is:
They say the land is their own, because their grandfathers owned it. They made pits there.
Pits were made by the Turgao. As well as the Guinanes and people from Abra. The story goes that there were four boys who had a pit and caught a deer and a boar, but they did not give it to their sister. So the sister went further ahead and made a pit herself. She continued walking until she reached Abra. Before, there was no boundary, there were no people. The girl made the pit further away. Now they say, the girl is from them, from the Balataoc, Turgao, Guinaang or Lubuagan. The pagta is not written. And people use other names, different names. They should make an actual boundary: the NCIP and DENR. But I think the pagta is written. It was made in Balatoc. There is a copy in Guinaang and Balatoc.
Because of the oral histories and the ambiguity of the location of the boundary, misunderstandings can arise and the different contradicting accounts that are told can lead to disputes. This time the conflict was amicably settled. However, there is always a risk that an
72 incident turns to a tribal conflict, especially with the ambiguity of the border location. Alex speaking about the lingering conflict between the Guinaang and the Balatoc:
‘Maybe if the bodong will not be restored, if there is no bodong between the two tribes [between the Balatoc and the Guinaang], there will be a risk for total war and it will cost lives.
We will risk our own lives, for our rights. Guina-ang was the first to give peace to Kalinga, but it is treated as a hen, a coward. Maybe it is time for us to stand. To fight for our right. Every family has a gun, a family heirloom, but we don’t want to show it. But in cases like this, we will bring it out. What’s the use of living if you are being humiliated. It’s better to go to war. What’s the use of living, if there is nothing to cultivate? What’s their use of extending the boundary? They already killed one man.’
I never saw a gun. But it became clear to me that there were guns and that they could indeed be used for tribal war. During a drinking session, some informants told me about the different guns they have.
An umili gun is a gun for the protection of the community. The guns people have are M14, M16, Garrant and Bakia, that is an air gun to shoot deer and wild pigs. Lipli is a Japan made gun, it is like a shot gun.
Summarizing what has been said, social relations play an essential role in the livelihood strategies of the Guinaang. Yet, between clans, barangays and tribes conflict may break out. Clan wars is one extreme expression of this, while tribal wars is another expression of this. Tensions between clans and tribes have occurred and increased during the mining struggle.
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Chapter 6: the struggle against Makilala
Introduction The argument of this chapter is that behind the mining conflict there are two opposite visions of the role of mining in local development. In the one vision Makilala is seen as a harbinger of opportunities. People who align with this vision adhere to the argument that they have few livelihood opportunities and just have enough money to buy basic daily needs, but that Makilala could bring a change for the good for this. People who align with the other vision, see in Makilala threats and great too many risks. Their main argument is that they depend on the land and water, and that any contamination of land and water would be deleterious to their livelihoods. Cast in these terms, the way natural resources are valuated and should be managed lies at the heart of the discussion on Makilala.
The outline of this chapter is as follows: in the first part of this chapter the experiences of the Guinaang with mining companies that came prior to Makilala will be examined. It will become clear that the recent issue with Makilala is a logical sequel to the events that has preceded it, and that the clash of Makilala with the Guinaang and the subsequent rejection of Makilala by people from the Guinaang tribe fits squarely in the historical framework of the struggle of the people against foreign exploitation. I will end this part by giving a brief description of the Makilala Mining Company. After this brief historical overview I will describe the differences in reasoning of opponents and proponents of Makilala and how they legitimize their choices. The third part of this chapter deals with how people transform their thoughts into actions. The FPIC (Free, Prior and Informed Consent) process is discussed and the role of social relationships herein is discussed. The chapter concludes with an analysis of the struggle that had been played out.
6-1. Mining history Makilala is not the first company which has tried to mine the gold reserves lying in the soil of Ginobat and its surroundings. Historically, there have been numerous expeditions by colonizers to mine the gold belt in the Cordillera, starting as early as the 17th century during the Spanish era (Scott 1921: 11). The Spanish colonizers tried to reach Guina-ang to mine gold there, but were never successful in their undertakings. In the 19th century they had
74 started a road and horse trail going to Guina-ang with the aim to transport gold on these routes, but it never reached Guina-ang. The road only reached up to neighbouring Balbalasang while the horse trail was only connected up to the area below Lubuagan (Claver 2006). It was only with the arrival of the American colonizers that industrial mining started in the Cordillera region. As early as 1903 an American mineralogist accompanied lieutenant- colonel William Bowen on it its mission to pacify the headhunting ‘Alzados’ in the Cordillera (Bowen 1904). That the Americans had set their minds on the gold can also be noted from a diary fragment of one of its governors. From this fragment it can be noted that the whole Cordillera was subject to prospective gold exploration (Dosser 1936). In Pasil, the municipality to which Guina-ang is part of, the first mine started its operation in 1934. The mine operated under the directory of Batong Buhay Gold Mines Inc. (BBGMI) and was located in barangay Balatoc. It brought employment for people living nearby the mine, and some people from Guina-ang also worked for the company. The company stopped its operations during World War II, but resumed again in 1969 and continued its operations up to 1985 (Philippine Mining Development Corporation 2015). It had stopped its operations in 1985 because of protests coming from surrounding villages and particularly because of dissenting voices from Tabuk. Tabuk is also called the rice granary of the Cordillera, and when the rice fields had got silted due to the mining operations, the farmers started complaining and opposed the mining operations upstream. Some of the drivers who transported the ores for the Batong Buhay company went on strike and the NPA went to the mine site and blasted some electric towers of the company. This had made the company stop its operations (Claver 2006; personal interviews (verified)). Batong Buhay was not the only mining company that had mined in the area. In fact, a series of mining companies have visited the area to mine gold and copper. Through interviews with residents from Guina-ang, I gathered that a US company named Lamoa had mined for a short period around 1945. Further, Nippon Mining Company of Japan had explorations for copper going on from 1969 to 1970 for BBGMI (Philippine Mining Development Corporation 2015). At the same time, according to residents from Guina-ang, a mining company called Cuesta was mining in the 1960s or 1970s. It has been related to me by a resident from Pugong that members from the Guinaang tribe from the barangays
Pugong and Malucsad protested against this company for reasons of environmental concern and had halted the operation of this mining company. They had removed equipment and
75 disarmed the security guards. Another company, Mission Mining Company, a US based company, was exploring in 1974, but it did not continue. Yet another company, Marsman company, as told by informants, was diamond drilling From 1977 to 1979/1980. The company mined some gold and afterwards did not return again. Newcrest, an Australian gold mining company was active for a short period (year unknown) and had labourers from Guinaang for six months as some informants have told me. But there was opposition and some residents of Guinaang went to the forest to halt the operations. The main argument of the protesters in opposing the operations was that the water used for consumption and irrigation would be affected, especially in Tabuk (personal interviews). As this brief overview illustrates, the Guinaang have experienced steady contact with mining companies. The experience with these mining companies have been twofold. On the one hand, some people from the tribe benefitted from the mining companies through employment, but on the other hand, members of the tribe also protested the mining companies because of its (alleged potential) bad effects to the environment. Curiously, some people who at the time had worked for the Batong Buhay Mining Company were now against
Makilala, while others who had worked for the company were in favour of the company.
Makilala Mining Company As mentioned earlier, the most recent mining company to visit Pasil is the Makilala Mining
Company. Makilala, or in full Makilala Mining Company Incorporated, is a subsidiary of copper, gold and molybdenum mining company Freeport-McMoRan, one of the largest mining companies of the world (Forbes 2015).12 Freeport-McMoRan is an American company based in Phoenix, Arizona and has operations worldwide, including the Grasberg mine in
Indonesia, argued to be the largest gold mine in the world (Spence 2015). Environmental reports of the mine have reported acid rock drainage into local groundwater and mining waste into nearby rivers which make the rivers and wetland unsuitable for aquatic life. An estimated of 650 million metric tons of tailing waste which include heavy metals such as mercury, cadmium and selenium is reported to have flow into the Arafura Sea (EnviroSearch International 1994; Perlez and Bonner 2005). This then was the company that, through its subsidiary Makilala, also wanted to mine near the residences of the Guinaang. Already in
12 Molybdenum is mostly used for high strength steel alloys. 76
1994 the Makilala company filed a request for exploration at Pasil (Mine and Geosciences Bureau 2015). In 2005 it applied again for exploration mining in Pasil, but only in 2013 did it really come close to actual exploration of the prospective site as at the end of that year the FPIC process with the Guinaang was set in progress (Innabuyog 2014).
Shortly, I will give a full account of the FPIC process and the struggle that has been played out between the company and the Guinaang. But before I will go into this, I will discuss the reasons of the people to be against or in favour of Makilala as this has decided for a large part how people took action against or in favour of it.
6-2. Contestation over Makilala
The arrival of Makilala in the residency of the Guinaang is contested, particularly in terms of what its effect would be on the livelihoods of the people. Broadly speaking, the opponents of Makilala see in Makilala a threat to their livelihoods and are making the case for the protection of their livelihoods. The proponents of Makilala on the other hand see in Makilala a benefactor and are making the case for economic development and the enhancement of their livelihoods. This paragraph constructs a dialogue between the two ‘sides’. Attention is also given to a third group. This group consist of people that are not fully with or against the company, but have an opinion that is situated somewhere in between. The arguments of both sides and the third group will be discussed on the basis of the following topics: employment, potential harmful effects of the company versus potential beneficial economic developments by the company and the alleged trustworthiness of the company. After having discussed the prevalent views of the people on these topics, the underlying thoughts on the management of the natural resources, ownership of land and what is and what is not considered legitimate politics will be discussed.
Welcoming a Trojan horse or sitting on a pot of gold Interviews revealed that for most of the people, to let Makilala enter and mine the forest is like welcoming a Trojan horse to their homes. Their reasoning goes like this: from the onset it looks nice, the company with all its promises of employment and economic development. However, once given entry within our territory it will show its true face: it will bring destruction and it will only care for its own development and profit. If the people would let them in, the Guinaang will be the victim. The environment and livelihoods will be destroyed
77 and there will be disunity in the tribe. The proponents, on the other hand, believe they are sitting on a pot of gold and that they just need the company to have access to it. Their reasoning goes like this: ‘the company, can lead us to the gold through its exploration activities. After the initial exploration phase, when the company has to ask our permission again for the actual mining operation, we will not grant them permission and instead of the company, we ourselves will mine the gold.’ Other proponents do not think that they may get the gold directly themselves, but that they will get employed by the company. Overall, the pro-people seem to think there will be little negative consequences of the mine as long as they are only engaged in exploration. Proponents who in addition to the exploration phase are also in favour of the full operation seem to take little consideration for any potential negative effects, they just trust the mining to be mining responsibly. In contrast, the anti-Makilala people are aware that the company may bring some benefits with it, but they disregard this, because they are of the opinion that the negative effects will outweigh and minimize these benefits. They fear that the negative effects to the environment could be lasting, while the benefits would only be there as long as the mining company is there. In what follows I will briefly elaborate on these views.
Employment Proponents of Makilala say that the company will provide much needed jobs for the people.
People are aware that people can only earn little money with farming alone. One person from Malucsad said:
The majority wants Makilala. They can have employment through Makilala. Many people here are stand-by, like Rafael and me.13
With ‘stand-by’, Carlos means, waiting for a job. The mining company can bring a solution to the unemployment problem according to him. Another person, from neighbouring barangay Pugong agreed:
13 Almost all names in this chapter are fictional so as to protect the identity of the informants.
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The company will be hiring people from here, they will be training them. The driller will be from here. – Theodoro
In Theodoro’s view, the company will employ people from the Guinaang tribe and this will better their economic position. Opponents of Makilala, however, are sceptical to this. First, they believe that if there will be employment, it will only be for a few people. One person whose father had worked for a mining company said:
But out of 100%, maybe only 2% of the people will get jobs with the company. The mere fact is that people cannot engage in business. How can they engage in business if they do not even have enough for their own food?
The man continued his argument, saying that getting a job is only reserved for the lucky ones, people that have connections with local politicians.
Some politicians are against mining, but they do not make a full stand. They also support it, because it will create jobs and opportunity for business. They will have a friend or brother that will be employed. That is their hidden agenda.
His argument shows that people do not only want the mining company for themselves, but they also want their kin to share in the benefits, in this case employment. Yet, opponents of the company are afraid that the jobs will be either jobs of the lowest position or jobs that require high skills, high skills that only people from outside the community possess. Alex, who himself has worked in the mining industry, but is against large-scale mining in his own place said of this:
The mining company only employs you when you have experience in mining and when you are skilled. […] You can get jobs in large-scale mining, but it is the kind of job with the lowest position. So what is the legacy of large-scale mining? Maybe it can help children to go to college. But, actually, it is the obligation of the parents to do so. The legacy should be for the whole community.
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According to Alex the work will only be for the people that already have work experience with a mining company or who are higher educated, but Alex knows that few people from the tribe actually meet these demands. He also states that even if some of the community gets employed, many people would still be left behind. He argues that the mining project should benefit the whole community. This sentiment, that it should benefit the whole community instead of only a few individuals is shared by most of the opponents and was often uttered in the interviews. Rafael, another resident from Guina-ang, shared the same thought:
Even for me, I like to be employed. But how about the others? We will be affected. If you go house to house and ask the people if they are pro or anti, then you will see that the majority is against. They will think that they will not be employed. The pros are only thinking about employment, how about those who do not get employed? – Rafael
Many of the people who were against the mine, told me that only a small part of the community would benefit through employment with the company. The bigger part of the community, they said, would be negatively affected by the environmental damage the mine would cause.
Potential harmful effects of the company versus potential beneficial economic developments by the company
The biggest objection of the opponents is that the mining operation, be it exploration or full operational excavation, will ultimately destroy the environment and will, in one way or another negatively affect their livelihoods. Their reason to fear negative consequences of the mine are not groundless. Aside from a track record of blunders by mining companies in the Cordillera and elsewhere in the Philippines (see IBON foundation 2012), people from the
Guinaang tribe have experienced working for a mining company outside the Cordillera themselves and have witnessed the destructive effects of mining with their own eyes. Alex, one of these ex-mineworkers had often told me about his work experience in mines at different places of the Philippines. He told me that
Makilala will cut the trees for road widening, our trees will vanish, and then we will have no wood for our houses. And maybe they will do open pit mining like in Antamok. In Masbate
80 there is a spiral mine and the whole mountain became a very big hole. The water level will sink and the water will get polluted. It will be disastrous for the rice fields. – Alex
The biggest fear of the opponents was that the water would be affected. If the water would get contaminated, the very basis of their livelihoods, their rice fields, could be seriously affected by the mine. The water of the rivers could become contaminated with chemicals, water levels could sink, and the mining operations could bring siltation to the rice fields. Their lives would be seriously endangered as they use this water to drink, to bathe and to water their fields. Also the trees, from which they get the lumber to build their houses, could become inaccessible to them or destroyed. Alex explained to me how almost all of their supplies come from the forest:
Almost all our supplies come from the forest: our lumber, our water for irrigation, our drinking water, the gold. It is a kind of source of income. We also hunt there and gather rattan. It is pasture land and land for kaingin.
The forest has a central place in the lives of the Guinaang living in barangays Guinaang, Galdang, Dangtalan and Bagtayan. For them the forest means a source of livelihood and it is closely connected to their everyday lives. However, not everyone of the tribe would be equally affected by the mine. I have been told how two of the six barangays are connected to another forest and water system, namely barangay Pugong and Malucsad.
In Pugong many people like the mining. Here in Guinaang we have many fields for which the source of irrigation is located in the forest. Especially the fields in Opa Opa and Pai-ok. For Pugong, there are no fields to be destroyed if a company would be mining in the forest. It is
Galdang and Guinaang which will be affected. – Lucas
But if the water really would get contaminated, the damage would also spread to lower lying regions, Lucas further explained:
Large-scale mining would also affect the lowland areas, like Tabuk, Isabela and Cagayan. It is the watershed of Tabuk and lowland Kalinga. The river system is constituted by the Pasil river,
81 the Saltan river, The Talawan river and the Chico river. All the rivers are tributaries of the Chico river. – Lucas
So, while many barangays could encounter problems with regards to their water supply, barangays Pugong and Malucsad did not really share this problem. Because of this, the residents of these barangays have less reason to worry that mining will affect their water source. It is no coincidence that most of the proponents of Makilala were living here. For the opponents in the other barangays, to let the mine enter is too big a risk. A risk they are not willing to take. Once, the company is ‘in’ it will be hard to get them out. And the damage the company will bring, will likely be irreversible. Alex, thinking out loud:
Ginobat is a sacred place. It is the source of our water. Without the forest there are also no deer, boars, motits, hawks and other animals. It is like a library to the Guinanes. It is like an open home and an open park to the tribe. A forest born child can see the mountains and the trees because of that. It knows the features of the orchids. People can tend their fields because of the water. That all is the meaning of the forest to the people. There is no reason to destroy the forest. Once people let the mining company mine, there is no return for the damage done and the people would have made a very big mistake to ever let it have happened. No man can regain it after it is destroyed. Only the Creator can create it. It is a sacred place. - Alex
Other than just being a source of livelihood, the forest also holds symbolic meaning to some people from Guina-ang. Although the argument was seldom expressed, Alex said that the land is a sacred place. This could have to do with the fact that the land is not sacred as such but is charged with a social history on which the Guinaang have developed their identity (Bensa in Horowitz 2002: 37). Like the ‘living archives’, of which a leader of the Kanak from
New Caledonia spoke, so Alex spoke of ‘a library to the Guinanes’. It is the birthplace of the Guinaang and because of this it is very precious to Alex and others. Preserving the forest goes further than protecting their livelihood. It is about safeguarding future generations from any deterioration and it is about conserving their ancestral domain and culture. This fear of losing their ancestral domain and losing the symbolic significance of the forest did not seem to loom large in the minds of the proponents of Makilala. Many of the
82 proponents shared with me that the forest could be protected from harm and argued that, more importantly, Makilala could bring economic development to the barangays as one informant told me:
When they will be drilling, 10% will be taxes going to the barangay. There will be a barangay development fund, and that is why we agreed with the drilling. We will receive 200.000 pesos every year for development projects in the barangays.
The belief that Makilala would bring development projects was also given force by the fact that it also did so for Batong Buhay. One informant said:
Makilala in Batong Buhay gives scholarships, local school boards, health boards. It is good help to the barangay and municipio. Soon, they will also go to the other barangays. In Batong Buhay they have projects like a bridge, a clinic, a pathway and waterworks.
Trust and the belief in a harmless exploration phase Tribe members that are in favour of the mine can understand the argument of their fellow tribe members with regards to the possible damaging effect of the mine to the environment. However, they belief that this damage can be prevented. First, they believe that rules and regulations will keep the company in check. Second, they belief that mining is only really harmful when the mine is fully operational, not when it only concerns exploration drilling. They stated that they accepted the drilling, not the mining. Some proponents said that, what they really want is that the mining company will find the gold veins for them. Once the mining company wants to go in full operation, that is the time they will say ‘no’ to the company’s wish to mine. In that way they can mine the gold themselves. This is how some of the proponents viewed it:
In Guina-ang they suspect that we want mining, but what we want is the drilling so we can know where the gold is. For me, I am also against the mining, it will cause destruction. But I want it to be drilled. - Theo
Exploration does not affect the environment. It is when the mine is in full operation that the
83 water will be affected. Tabuk had already opposed Batong Buhay. They protested, because their rice fields were covered with mud. – John
The exploration will be for 7 years. When the FPIC comes for the mining operation we will say
‘no’. If they will still proceed, we will blockade them. It creates jobs and they will locate the gold. – Tim
In interviews, proponents of Makilala expressed their belief that the company would follow state rules and regulations for the protection of the environment. Thus proponents not only trusted the company but also the regulating government bodies who ought to be responsible for the monitoring of the operations of the company. Some people said that if there would be any damage to the environment the company would fix it. One retired government employee put it like this:
The NCIP and Makilala explained it when the question arose about damage on trees. The
DENR is responsible for reforestation and the protection of the environment. And the company is also responsible. In the MOA [Memorandum of Agreement] it is stated that whatever damage will be caused, it will be replaced. - John
Here, John shared his belief that the company and the government would stick to their word and follow the regulations. If any damage would be caused, it could still be remedied. When I referred to instances of tailing dams that collapsed in the Cordillera and asked if he was not afraid that the same would happen here, he replied:
It should be a stagnant tailing dam, not a temporary dam just to take the minerals. The dams will be facing westward to Abra, so no one here, will be affected [in case the dam would break]. -John
John admitted that there could be environmental damage, but if that would happen, the damage could be restored or it would not affect the Guinaang at all.
To summarize, people that would like to have Makilala mine in their area belief that the company and government institutions like the NCIP and DENR will protect their
84 environment from any inflicting harm the mine could cause. They trust them in this. On the other hand, while they entrust the company this responsibility, they still have a feeling of power over the company as they belief that they can refuse the company their wish to turn into full operation. This resembles Horowitz’ (2002) findings in her research in New Caledonia.
She has found that when people were given a voice to have a say in the matter of a mining company, they felt that they have been granted a degree of power over the mining activity. ‘They were therefore more inclined to feel that the mining company would respect their decisions and concerns’ (Horowitz 2002: 46).
Neutrals
Not all proponents were so optimistic as John. One interviewee, a student, said he had attended a lecture that pointed out some dangers of large-scale mining. It made him realize how detrimental mining could be to the environment and the livelihoods of people. He told me that the lecturers had shown examples of other mines that were operating or had operated in the Philippines and the environmental damage it had caused. Thanks to this lecture he was well aware of the possible externalities of industrial mining. Yet he was equally aware of the isolation of his community and the relative poverty of his barangay. He would like to see a road connected to the barangay, and the mining company to bring development. For him, the ideal situation would be that the mining company would construct this road and also follow the national mining laws.
While opponents would not risk having the mining company operate in Ginobat, proponents would take the risk and would like to reap the benefits of the company. People who were doubting, had two directions to go, either they could play it safe or they would give the company the benefit of the doubt. One informant portrayed this ambiguity as follows:
Dolores: Here in Malucsad, we want exploration only. Guinaang doesn’t like it. Why exploration only? If there is mining, the fields will be destroyed and the water will become dirty. Will the exploration not bring destruction? Makilala explained and said no. They said what is wrong and right… I don’t know. In Lepanto the fields are destroyed, even when they told the people there will be no destruction. Many say that there will be jobs, it will employ the jobless. But
85 others are against, they will say: how about the next generation? […] I am afraid that the environment will be destroyed, but I signed the MOA for exploration. But we are old, we will not get a job at the company.
Dolores’ viewpoint is situated in between the proponents and opponents. It demonstrates that the division between the antis and pros is not always so clear-cut, and that besides these two groups there is a third group. It shows the dilemma with which some people are struggling. She stated that she signed the MOA, yet, in the same interview she also acknowledged that she signed a petition against Makilala up to two times. The decisions people make are not made in isolation. People are situated in dense web of connections and this may be one of the reasons that they choose the one option over the other. In this case, it is known that her husband is an outspoken proponent of Makilala. Yet, there is more. One informant told me that her husband would receive 4000 pesos monthly from Makilala, in turn for showing its support for the company. However, another woman whose husband was also in favour of the mine, was openly against the mine. This shows that although decisions made by individuals, are highly influenced by others, their personal concerns for their livelihood and that of others can still be the decisive factor in being against or in favour of the mine.
6-3. Factors that influence the stance of people towards Makilala One factor influencing a person’s stance is his or her livelihood. People who are more susceptible to negative effects of the mine are more likely to protest against future operations. First, this can be seen by the large numbers of farmers that are opposed to the mine compared to the number of government workers who are opposed to the mine. I may have a biased view on this, because I have mostly talked with farmers, but more than once they have pointed out that it are the government employees who are mostly in favour of the mine. The government employees that I have interviewed, confirmed this view. Farmers depend more on the land and water in their daily lives than government employees. They simply need the land and water for their crops, most importantly their rice. Furthermore, whereas government employees, especially the higher positioned politicians, have money to spend to remedy any negative effects of the mine, the farmers do not have this money available to them. As some informants told me, if something disastrous would happen, the bad politicians could always buy a house and land somewhere else. In addition, some of
86 these richer, and therefore influential people, are spokespersons of Makilala and gain additional money through their negotiations.
People who have money, richer people, are in favour of LSM [large-scale mining]. They can negotiate with Makilala. Also, most of them are in Tabuk, so they are not directly affected. They will have people, “tenants” working on the field here. – Rafael
Second, besides the majority of farmers, people who are also engaged in small-scale mining (almost exclusively farmers) are also opposed to the mine. Of the approximately ten mining groups (a group generally consist of about six people) I have spoken with, only one mining group saw Makilala in a good light. All the other miners seemed to be unfavourable towards the mining company. The one mining group that was in favour of Makilala had a cunning reason to do so. The leader of the group told me, and this was also reiterated in other interviews I had conducted with non-miners, that they were not really in favour of large-scale mining in Ginobat. What they were in favour for was the mining exploration. The group had mined on and off for three years without any significant returns. Now, if Makilala would start exploring the area, the leader of the group told me, then, when they would find some high grade ores, the small-scale miners at least would know the right location to mine and in this way they could mine it so that their hard work would not be in vain. He told me that after the exploration, Makilala has to go, so that the local people could mine the newly discovered high grade ore, and in this way reap a lot more benefits from their ‘expeditions’ than before. This was the reasoning of this miner and former government official. However the rest of the small-scale miners I had interviewed did not see it this way. Take Ray for example. Ray is an experienced small-scale miner that spends more time mining than farming, he had let me do extra in his tunnel. We had just returned from the inside of his tunnel when heavy rain was pouring down from the skies. Fortunately, by then, we were already sitting in his log cabin near the fire enjoying some cup of coffee. We were talking about his life as a miner and the subject of Makilala came up. He told me:
Makilala and large-scale mining is destructive. When they come here, the water will get poisoned. I think private [small-scale] mining is better. We used mercury, but the DOH
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[department of health] came here with a seminar. We learnt that it is very dangerous, therefore we don’t use it any more.
Environmental concerns is one of the main reason to be against Makilala, but it is not the only one. Another reason that small-scale miners had put forward during the conservations I had with them is that they are afraid that they will not have access anymore to the forest and the mining site if the mining company would come. When I asked about Makilala, Spencer, a young miner in his 20s told me:
Makilala? The leaders are in favour of it. It is a shortcut for them to get the gold of this area.
But private mining is better than large-scale mining. Makilala is very bad. Almost half of the people are against. The others that are pro just want the money. At least private mining is open for everyone.
By saying that private (small-scale) mining is open for everyone, Spencer implicated that large-scale mining is not open to everyone. If large-scale mining would replace private small-scale mining, then small-scale mining would be closed off for the people, they would lose one helpful source of income. Spencer related the story of his sick mother:
We spent money on the medication of our mother. She stayed in Tuguegarao for one month and in Baguio for one month. She had an operation on her brain. She suffered a stroke and had high blood pressure. We payed 600.000 pesos. We did not have PhilHealth. We borrowed 50.000 + 20.000 pesos from [….]. He is not a relative of ours. We had an interest of 20%. We paid the debt last May. We got the money from the tunnel. We had high grade gold, but now it is very hard to get. The gold is only enough for our supplies.
In short, almost all small-scale miners shared the opinion that they did not want Makilala to enter the forest. They were not prepared to give up a healthy environment, access to the forest and their small-scale mining practices to make place for the mining company. Sometimes, the company had tried to bribe people. Bearing in mind the small money economy of Guina-ang and need for money by people, this could well show to be an effective strategy of the company. Yet, I have observed that people were not easily persuaded
88 by money. Even when people would be given a large amount of money to be in favour of the mine, they would not always accept it. One of the leaders of the opposition was more than once offered an amount of money. The Newcrest company offered him one time 3 million pesos and another time 5 million pesos. That is about 600.000 to 1 million euros. Still, he refused, because he stands for his principles. One of the persons present to the proposed transaction said to me:
I was the manager. It was during this time I witnessed that the company tried to bribe him. But […] stands on his principles and his words. When he is speaking in the community, no one talks and everyone listens. If he would accept the money it would be a betrayal to the tribe. They even tried to add a house and lot. Because we know these bribery practices of the mining company we also suspect the politicians of being bribed, we experienced it ourselves. If before Makilala people could not own land and build house plus lot and rice fields in Tabuk, after Makilala they could. Before Makilala, even if they are officials, they do not earn enough money to do that. So we suspect them of being bribed. We cannot provide the mere evidence or documentation. But is has been the observation of the people. You can compute: if someone earns 30.000 pesos per month for example, how can he acquire property that costs millions of pesos. Where did he got the money from?
In short, in addition to the safeguarding of the livelihoods and wellbeing of the tribe, the loyalty to the tribe also played a decisive factor for people to oppose the company, even when offered a lot of money. A second factor that plays a role in people’s stance towards Makilala, and that is closely related to the livelihoods of people, is geographical location. Barangays Guina-ang, Galdang and Bagtayan would be more affected by any negative effect of the mine than barangay Pugong and Malucsad would. As stated earlier, in the latter barangays the number of proponents is higher than in the other three. This could partly be explained by the fact that their source of the irrigation was different from the other barangays. They would less likely be affected if Makilala would operate the mine. Yet, a more suiting explanation for why there are more people in favour of Makilala in these barangays is clan loyalty. When the livelihood or place of residence cannot fully explain the outlook of a person, a look at its social networks can give an insight in his or her decision to be in favour or against the mine. I argue that
89 being pro or anti the mine cannot be seen in isolation of the family, clan or tribe. I have earlier written how whole clans were being labelled as pro-Makilala. The Makilala struggle has also been played out along clan lines. One clan from Guina-ang, the Atumpa clan was the leading advocate of the opponents, while one clan from Pugong was strongly in favour of the mine. Thumasa from the Atumpa clan from Guina-ang, did not sign any papers of Makilala. Lola Thumasa, as she was also called, was telling me one day when we were sitting inside their house:
‘We are like a family’. I don’t like giving money. We are poor and need everything, but we cannot accept their money. We are all poor in the family, but we don’t take the money. We will never take their money. Our children, they are working for an NGO. They advise us not to take money. They hand out flyers to us with information. They are always keeping their word. Our leader is Lingbawan. They say that we should never take the money, even if we are poor, and no matter how hard- up you are. You have to keep on working and plant your plants to earn money and especially for your food. We are like one family, children of Lingbawan. Mila, Jane, Dina, Anton they always advise us not to take the money.
Staying at her house for almost two months, I could see that Thumasa practiced what she preached. The small, and cheerful lady, marked by the passage of time, always went to the field to work, even when she was not that young anymore. She took great care for her family and pride in her family, and even though I was living with her for a small time, she regarded me as her son and was always looking after me. Her family meant more to her than money and it is not without reasons that she said ‘we cannot accept their money’ and ‘we don’t take the money’ instead of ‘I cannot accept their money’ or ‘I don’t take the money’. She was taking about her whole family, when she was talking about herself. She could do hard work and earn only a little money, but she would never allow herself to accept a lot of money but to disappoint her family. Yet, sometimes family clan loyalties could not hold against outside pressure. One woman, who belongs to the same clan as Thumasa, regrets the coming of Makilala as it has turned relationships within the clan to the worse.
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There are tensions between villagers, even relatives, because of the different opinions on Makilala. There is conflict, even between cousins. It is because of money. It is like relatives don’t know you anymore. They avoid you. There are only a few people who are really pro- Makilala. In Tabuk at the meetings of Makilala, they would give 5000 pesos to people. The weakened ties are caused by money, only because of the money involved. They would give money to the barrio, if you will not accept it, they give it to others who are pro-Makilala. If you were very close with persons before, it has changed. Sometimes they don’t enter your house. Before, we were often talking with each other. Now, it seems they don’t know each other. There is also suspicion when there is a new face. People suspect that person of giving some money to people, especially when they are entering someone’s house. People know the people from the Makilala group. They are coming from Pugong. The mastermind is from there. He said that Ginobat is their own land. – Ida
Judging from this quote only it seems there was a lot of animosity in Guina-ang. Yet, from my observations and through other interviews, I gathered that the tensions were mostly there when the topic was still ‘hot’. A year after the FPIC process (see the next part), tensions seemed to have calmed down.
When Makilala will pursue its wish to go mining in Ginobat, then, I think, the issue will be raised again in the community. But for now the relationships are okay, it will only come up maybe when the people are drunk. – Lorenzo
There would be quarrels, gossip and debates. They would discuss the matter with each other, but it never went to fighting. Some people don’t talk with others anymore, because of that. But the issue of Makilala has lied down now. Maybe if it comes again it will be ‘hot’ again and people will quarrel for one month. The situation is okay now. There is no debate now. There is already peace. If there will be a new issue, maybe then it will rise up again – Amasi
6-4. Actions and conflict Above I set out how the tribe was divided on the mining issue. I also described how they came to their views. Below, I will describe how these views translated into action. A large part of the actions of the people centered around the process of FPIC that was conducted from
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August to December 2013. As stated earlier, in the Philippines, mining companies, in order to mine the prospective area, have to obtain the official permission of the people who live in the area. Makilala is no exception to this rule. In the Indigenous Peoples Right Act of 1997 it is stated that people should have consensus on permitting a mining company to operate in their area, and they should deliberate the issue according to their customary practice (see Land, mining and indigenous people in the Philippines for a more elaborate treatise on this topic). In Pasil however, a consensus was never reached by the Guinaang tribe. The issue was initially decided by through a majority vote, which in fact was not a vote by the majority, but represented just the people that were in favour of the mine. Furthermore, rather than the issue being decided through customary practice, selected influential politicians directed the way the process went. The official decision-making processes about mining provided little room for the dissenting villagers to voice their values and visions with regards to the mining issue. This led to the mobilization of opponents at the last months of 2013 to denounce the FPIC process and to resist the mining plans of the Makilala Mining Company altogether. They reacted with organized resistance and made void the MOA that had been made between the company and ‘the tribe’ (Innabuyog 2014; personal interviews). In order to come to this result, the people that were against large-scale had to prove that the process was indeed conducted erroneously. At first the protest was not so much against the prospective mine, but it was focused on the unfair consultation process. It was only later that the protest was fully against the mine as such. The experience with the FPIC process convinced people that the Makilala company and the NCIP were only in it for their own gains and did not fully take into account the interests of the people. It also showed people that Makilala sowed disunity in the tribe and opponents of the mine feared that would the company indeed be mining that it would only further disintegrate the tribe. What was at stake were not only the livelihoods of the people, but also their social relationships with each other.
The trajectory of the FPIC process In what follows I will concisely describe the FPIC process and the protests that went with it. This episode lasted about nine months. It started in the month of August, 2013 and ended more or less on April 2014. The recollection of the events are from second-hand experiences, because I was only present in the community from March to May 2015 and one week in
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November 2014. Before going to the FPIC process of Guinaang, I will first explain the formal way the FPIC process goes about. An FPIC process consists roughly of five or six stages:
Stages of FPIC:
1) Field Based Investigation (FBI) 2) Pre-FPIC conference 3) First General Assembly 4) Second General Assembly 5) One of the two: Memorandum of Agreement (MOA) or certificate of non-consent 6) If at point 5 MOA: MOA validation assembly and granting of certificate of consent
Explanation of stages During the Field Based Investigation, the site of the project is mapped. The following is determined: the area of the project, the affected population, the leaders of the community and their decision-making process. After the FBI the Pre-FPIC takes place. During the Pre-
FPIC conference the process of FPIC is laid out for the members of the FBI team, this includes two leaders from the affected communities. When the FBI and pre-FPIC conference has been conducted, the first assembly with the local people will be held. During the First General Assembly the whole community is invited. The FPIC process and IPRA are explained and the following will be validated: the FBI report, the identity of the leaders of the community, the area affected, the population affected, the decision-making mechanisms and the existence of any boundary conflicts with other tribes who have ancestral domains. At least one more assembly should be held after the first one. It is during the Second General Assembly that the mining company will be present and present its plans to the community. It will set out prospective advantages and eventual disadvantages of its operations and how the company plans to remedy these. An open forum with the people will be conducted. After the assembly the community is given a maximum of two months’ time to decide on the issue (NCIP 2012).
This is how the process goes on paper. In reality, the way the process goes varies from case to case. In the case of the Guinaang not all steps were followed and there were irregularities in how the process went about. In interviews, opponents of the mine said that it seemed that the NCIP and the company wanted to fast-track the process and, by manipulating it, to set
93 the process to their hand, disregarding the concerns that were raised by people of the tribe. According to opponents, the NCIP just selected people that were in favour of the mine to be included in the FPIC process. They told me how Makilala and the NCIP used the FPIC- guidelines in such a way that it could circumvent the concerns of other villagers. The company tried to craft a good image of itself and manage its reputation. However, the tactic of the company to marginalize opposing voices backfired. Oppositionists revealed the erroneous way the FPIC-process was conducted and protested the way the company, the NCIP and proponents steered the process in their favour (Innabuyog 2014). I will now give a brief account of the developments that had come to pass. For a chronologic overview of the developments see figure 17.
Account of the FPIC-process Disagreement between people from the tribe and the NCIP began with the pre-FPIC conference that was held on August 12, 2013. Opponents argued that the NCIP selected elders from the Guinaang tribe which did not represent the council of elders that was already in place and chosen by the Guinaang themselves. Furthermore, the consultation was not held inside the community, but held in Tabuk City (Innabuyog 2014, interviews). As a response to these irregularities, the Guinaang Indigenous peoples Organization (GIPO) undertook action to counter these irregularities. It created a manifesto against the Makilala Mining Company and collected signatures from tribes members. In the manifesto the people raised their demand to reject the application of Makilala to explore the aimed 3000 hectares of land in their tribal area. It gathered 700 signatures and sent the manifesto to the Provincial and National offices of the NCIP (see figure 18 for the organization structure of the NCIP). The National office reacted to this manifesto and directed the provincial office to validate the manifesto (Innabuyog 2014, interviews).
Yet, two months later, on November 2013, the provincial office of the NCIP proceeded with the First General Assembly, which were actually the First and Second assembly in one. This time another disagreement occurred between the NCIP and the leading opponents of the mine. Instead of one tribal assembly, the NCIP insisted in holding the assembly per barangay, which they eventually also did. First assemblies were held in barangay Galdang and
Bagtayan, then in Pugong and Malucsad, and only on the third day in barangay Guina-ang. This is remarkable, because barangay Guinaang lies in between barangay Galdang and
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Bagtayan; and Pugong and Malucsad. In going to the others barangays for the assembly the NCIP literally skipped Guina-ang. Barangay Dangtalan was omitted from the consultation process altogether. Yet, residents of this barangay still belong to the Guinaang tribe, at least in the opinion of oppositionists (interviews). In the assemblies the people were asked to sign a resolution of consent in favour of the mine, as well as a resolution authorizing the barangay council of elders to represent the tribe. Four out of the five barangays signed the resolutions. It was only Guinaang that vehemently opposed the mine. Opponents argued that the other barangays only signed because the representatives were selected by the NCIP. Furthermore, they argued that the people were not fully informed on the FPIC process nor on the potential negative consequences of the prospective mine. In addition to this, people were bribed.
According to one informant they received an amount of 1000 pesos for their signature. During the assembly in Guina-ang, the residents of the barangay voiced their wish for the FPIC process to come to a halt, so that the tribe could first settle internal issues and the boundary dispute of the tribe with the Balatoc. The internal issues refer to the disunity that the tribe had experienced since Makilala’s application. The boundary dispute concerned land claims by the Guinaang and Balatoc on the area that Makilala was applying to explore (Innabuyog 2014). Yet again, the provincial office of the NCIP disregarded the requests of tribe members, and this time scheduled a tribal assembly for the signing of a MOA. To do so, it was agreed between proponents of the mine and the NCIP that some of the proponents would, as tribal elders, sign the MOA. In reality, these ‘tribal elders’ were not the true representatives of the tribe. The NCIP formed a council of 28 people. According to one informant, this council included youth, even school leavers. The tribe did not select these people as leaders or elders. In fact, the Guinaang already had a council of elders in place, consisting of 18 representatives (Innabuyog 2014 and confirmed in interviews).
Again, the opponents had to resort to action to prevent the mine from acquiring a legal permit to mine in their area. Another petition was launched. This time the petition contested the legitimacy of the FPIC process carried out by the provincial NCIP of Kalinga. The opponents demanded a temporary restraining order (TRO) over the FPIC process. Five delegates of IFAGPI went to a national conference for indigenous people in Manila to give their petition to the central office NCIP and the special rapporteur on the rights of indigenous people of the UN. Rico, one of the persons in the vanguard of the opposition recalled:
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I went to conference of indigenous people in Manila. There was the rapporteur from the UN. I was there for 3 days. I talked with Binai, the vice-president of the Philippines. There were indigenous people from all over the Philippines: Mindanao, Visayas, Samar…
From every province and region there was one representative. I represented the Guinaang. There were four of us at the front. When my time came to stand up and speak, I reported the wrongdoings of the NCIP. I reported about their pro-Makilala stance and about the company forcing the elders to join them, that they would invite them in Tabuk. But the FPIC process should be held in the community. So, I said that the FPIC was not a community decision. […]
Why is the NCIP in favour of the investors, instead of hearing both sides? I asked. The representative of the NCIP then replied that she never saw the petitions. So, we then discovered that the provincial and regional offices never submitted the petition to the national level.
Here, it became clear that the provincial office of the NCIP, the regional office and the national office were not on the same page. The opponents eventually succeeded the NCIP in enforcing the Temporary Restraining Order (TRO). The Kalinga Provincial Officer issued a TRO on the conduct of the FPIC process. However, the proponents were not easily discouraged. On February, 2014, the Legal Officer of the Kalinga Provincial Office and a private lawyer of
Makilala declared the complaint of the Guinaang void. The Regional Hearing Officer of the NCIP dismissed the complaint for lack of jurisdiction; the Regional Director had to decide the matter. The regional director on his part moved the issue to the National Office again. Eventually, the National Office dismissed the complaint and the TRO remained active (Innabuyog 2014).
After the Temporary Restraining Order (TRO) While the TRO was enacted, tensions remained within the tribe. Just a few days before the TRO became active, a MOA was already signed in Amdalao between the company and members from the tribe. Disunity and confusion was prevalent in the tribe (Innabuyog 2014).
During this time NGOs together with elders from barangays Guina-ang, Galdang and Bagtayan held a consultation on the FPIC guidelines and the implications of Makilala’s project
96 in the area. On February 22, a resolution was submitted to the Municipal Mayor of Pasil to sponsor and facilitate a General Assembly of the Guinaang tribe to discuss and settle issues. On March 11, the general assembly was held. The following five recommendations were made during the assembly:
1. To demand a correction of data from the Kalinga Provincial Office of the NCIP in their Field-based Investigation Report on the land area of barangays Bagtayan, Galdang, Guina- ang, Pugong and Malucsad.
2. For the provincial office to include barangay Dangtalan in all FPIC processes conducted as they are part of the Guinaang tribe, part of the ancestral domain of the Guinaang tribe and covered by bodongs forged by the Guinaang with other tribes.
3. For the Registry of Deeds office to look into the overlapping individual tax declarations within the ancestral domains of the Guinaang tribe.
4. For the provincial office to conduct all consultations within the Guinaang community and not conduct them outside of the Guinaang tribe ancestral domain.
5. An immediate resolution of the tribal boundary conflict of the Guinaang and Balatoc tribes.
(Innabuyog 2014: 12-13)
As the points in the petition show, the protest was primary focussed on highlighting the erroneous conduct of the FPIC and the unsettled land disputes. However, a month later members of the tribe declared their full opposition against the mining company. The opposition against Makilala was solidified and reached its height during the regional Cordillera Day held in Guina-ang on April 23 to April 26. The day was facilitated by GIPO and IFAGPI and was organized with an alliance of NGOs from the Cordillera region. A unity pact was made between the Guinaang and the different organizations that were present to resist corporate projects that would destroy land, life and resources. In addition to pleading their resistance against Makilala through the pact, the people also voiced their dissent with regards to the actions of the NCIP and the military. The following three points were
97 spearheaded in the pact:
1. Unite and strongly resist the Makilala-FreePort McMoRan mining project and the Chevron geothermal project in our communities. We demand an immediate suspension of all the projects.
2. Oppose the scheme of divide and rule and deceptive tactics of the NCIP in coming out with an anomalous, manipulative and fraudulent FPIC process. We demand that all our decisions made through our indigenous socio-political systems be respected and recognized. We demand that the NCIP be accountable for the violations it perpetrated on the FPIC and collective rights. We call for the dismantling of the NCIP should it no longer performs its mandate of serving the interest and rights of indigenous peoples.
3. Condemn the intensive militarization in our communities and the continued culture of impunity. We demand for the immediate pull-out of all military forces from our communities, justice for all victims of human rights violations and that the state and corporate perpetrators and their agents be held to account. (Innabuyog 2014: 13)
The points of this pact and abovementioned petition as well as the actions of the protestors show that the resistance as carried out by the Guinaang had all the elements of rightful resistance. “Rightful resistance entails the innovative use of laws, policies, and other officially promoted values to defy “disloyal” political and economic elites” (O’Brien 1996: 33). The Guinaang used the IPRA to correct the fraudulent behaviour of NCIP employees. They did this by using the recognized legal channels which had been misused by the NCIP and Makilala and by making an appeal to higher bodies of the NCIP. In other words they “[used] influential advocates and recognized principles to apply pressure on those in power who have failed to live up to some professed ideal or who have not implemented some beneficial measure” (O’Brien 1996: 33). ‘Those in power’ had to yield to the demands made because the Guinaang used precisely the rhetoric and commitments to which the powerful had vowed. In this way opponents of the mine could make void the decision to let Makilala mine and prevent
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Makilala from mining in their home place.
6-5. Analysis of the conflict around Makilala from a micro-political perspective Micro-political ecology examines (1) resource conflicts between communities and the state,
(2) between communities and companies and (3) between communities and other communities and within communities (Horowitz 2008: 261). In the former part of this chapter I have mainly discussed the first two elements, namely the conflict of the Guinaang with Makilala and the state (primarily in the form of the NCIP). In this paragraph I will look at the last element. I will look at conflicts within the Guinaang tribe and between the Guinaang and the Balatoc that came to the fore during the Makilala conflict.
Respectively I will discuss (1) the contestation within the tribe over the management of the mineral resources, (2) the contestation within the tribe and with the Balatoc over access to and ownership over land and (3) contestation over the legitimate authority regarding the decision-making on these issues.
Use and management of mineral resources Activists against large-scale mining and the pro-mining advocates really did not differ much from each other as would appear on first sight. In a way, both believed that the gold buried under the ground could bring them riches. Some anti-mining activists put their belief in a local small-scale mining organization, while pro-mining advocates put their trust in a professional mining company. They were divided on who should manage the mineral resources. Artemio, one of the leaders of the opposition, said that he wanted the tribe to manage their own small scale mines as additional source of livelihood. In fact, members of the tribe had already registered a Stock Corporation called Tabia Goldfields Small Scale Miners Services. Its vision is that the ‘appropriate economic harnessing of the resources within the ancestral domains of indigenous people are in major ways owned and managed by themselves’ (tabiagoldfields.weebly.com/vision). The argument here is that the people want to be masters of their own livelihood trajectory and want to safeguard their environment. The belief is that small-scale mining can be organized in such a way that through their own management of natural resources it will bring real benefits to the people. Proponents of
Makilala see it differently. They argue that small-scale miners are ineffective and that a company is better suited for the job. The following statements of two self-declared pro-
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Makilala persons illuminates this:
For the individual miners the problem is their supplies. How to get the supplies, before you get one or two grams of gold? There is no net gain, because if you sell it… the money goes to the supplies again. - Romeo
The small-scale miners keep on spending without gains, and there will be no barangay development fund. The millionaires have the means. If you give the area to the company they will share their profit with the community. - Daniel
In short, opponents of Makilala, especially the small-scale miners, want to manage the mineral resources themselves and also want to be the guardian of the other natural resources that could be affected by mining. Pro-Makilala people, on the other hand, entrust the mining company in managing the mineral resources. They belief that the community will ultimately benefit from this; more than from the small-scale mining practices.
Contestation over access to and ownership over land Ever since Makilala applied to mine certain areas in Ginobat, land claims have been made at the area. The customary practice is that the land is communal. Yet, it also a custom that when one clan cultivates a piece of land, it falls under their custody. One elder stated:
The land is theirs if their forefather had uma [swiddens] or pits [for hunting], or even used the land for cutting trees.
Others disagree. For some it goes too far to say that people own the land. One informant from the Atumpa clan explained:
All parts of Ginobat: Umbog, Ambinayas, Magadgad etcetera are owned by clans: They don’t really own it, it is more like they are caretakers, when the land is being used for improvement. We have an agreement not to declare land. It is for communal use.
Yet, these two principles, that the land is communal and at the same time one can ‘own’ the
100 land, has caused tensions. Anti-Makilala people say that the land is communal and one can only have a piece of land if they are really cultivating it. They argue that people cannot own a big portion of the land in the forest because they would never be able to cultivate it all. Makilala advocates, on the other hand, argue that tracts of land are theirs, because their forefathers worked on it. A handful of individuals actually tried to register the land. Once the land is theirs, the anti-Makilala people argued, pro-Makilala individuals can profit from it when Makilala wants to mine the land. They can have tax declarations or sell the land. Despite the claims of the claimants, it appeared that the land was still regarded as communal by the majority of the people. One informant stated
‘Because they are afraid the people will get angry, it is still being used as a communal forest.’
This intra-tribal dispute about the land, despite its tensions, never escalated to violent conflict. The dispute over land did not stay confined to the tribe however, but it became an inter-tribal dispute. It was a conflict between the Guinaang and Balatoc and it almost escalated to a tribal war. The leader of the pro-Makilala camp, who belongs to the Abacan clan is the current bodong holder with the Balatoc. Someone from another pro-Makilala clan, with relatives in Balatoc, confided the following information to me:
The Mossing clan has land in Magadgad, while the Abacan clan has land in Ambinayas. Even in Umbog there are declarants. It was owned by our ancestors. It was the clan of our forefathers. Charles Balusa is the brother of Mossing and Gunday is another brother. Their forefathers are from Balatoc. Balusa guided the Americans. They operated in Magadgad. But when World War II broke out, they went to America. The grandparent of Gunday is a 2nd degree relative to Balatok. Catalino Gunday declared the lake their property. Because the claimant is our relative we just gave it so to settle the dispute.
The lake the informant is talking about is Padalao Lake. It is about three hectares wide and it is a tourist spot under development. The man tells that the border has been extended in
101 favour of the Balatoc, to include the Lake. It was agreed that the water that flows down to Guinaang is for the Guinaang, and the water that flows down to Balatoc is for the Balatoc. It is clear that the shared kinship ties was crucial in the decision. The extension was already the second or third extension of the boundary in favour of the Balatoc. Anti-Makilala people say that the Balatoc wanted the lake for touristic revenues, but that this is only one part of the truth. The other part, and probably the main motivation, is that they wanted the land for the mineral deposits. Indeed, Makilala also applied to mine around Balatoc and also had a FPIC process going on over there. After the border was extended in favour of the Balatoc, Balatoc people wanted to extend it again. This issue was still being discussed while I was staying in Guina-ang.
Although people did not immediately say that it was because of the gold, they suspected that the Balatoc probably wanted to extend the border for the minerals located there. For example
“The boundary of Balatoc is very far. But Abacan is the bodong holder and he is pro-
Makilala.” - Lucas
As a bodong holder you are responsible for negotiations and settlements about boundaries and land. The agreements are already made in the pagta, but the terms can be renegotiated as is the case with the border between the Guinaang and Balatoc. Lucas and others were aware that barangay Balatoc is much farther away to the claimed land than Guina-ang. They argue that the land rightfully belongs to the Guinaang, but, since Arthur is the local councillor of Makilala and leader of the pro-Makilala camp, and Makilala already had an exploration permit in Balatoc, he would agree favourably to the boundary extension of the Balatoc. In this way, while the company might not be able to get the permit from the Guinaang, it could still mine the aimed territories by just shifting the border of the Balatoc, who had already given their permission for Makilala to mine in ‘their’ area. Because of the strategic location of the boundary, the border dispute was so important and was raised as an essential discussion point during the FPIC process. The dispute first had to be settled, because it determined what belonged to the Guinaang and what to the Balatoc. It was so much the more important that the issue should be amicably
102 settled, because the issue already had caused an episode of armed conflict in the past (see The tribe as social unit). Determining the location of the boundary and allotting the land is a complex process, because who owns the land was never really decided in the past. Through my interviews I gathered that, historically, if an area was already occupied by someone, others could not work on it. However, the modern meaning of legally owning the land was not applicable then. For the case in hand, the land that was contested had an official legal status, but the customary system of land rights was still recognized by the tribe (also see Horowitz 2002: Prill-Brett 2007). The co-existence of two different property systems ‘often leads to intra- community conflict, as individuals with various social positions experience different benefits and costs from each system’ (Teulières-Preston 2000). In the case of Guina-ang, the persons who declared land at the government office of Registration of Deeds tried to use the ‘new’, official state system to own the land on paper. They claimed the land however, through the original customary system. Horowitz (2002: 43) found the same in the case of the Kanak in New Caledonia and writes:
“Anxious to maintain if not improve their current economic and social status, people sought to assert their rights through whichever system of rights, Kanak or French, was most supportive of their interests of the moment.”
In the case of Guinaang, the same applies, but then with the customary system of the Guinaang and the official Philippine state system. Additionally, and in parallel with the New Caledonia case, opponents of the mining company accused the land claimants, who were on the pro-Makilala side, of being selfish, dishonest and corrupted by the lure of money. Cracks seemed to appear in the social cohesiveness of the Guinaang.
Contestation over legitimate authority I have demonstrated that who manages natural resources and who is the rightful owner of a piece of land is a topic of debate in the Guinaang barangays. Another question is who is to decide on the matter. At first, the decision to mine or not to mine was made by influential proponents of Makilala. The NCIP played a large role in this, as it was biased in favour to the mining company from the start, and constructed the process in favour of the company
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(Innabuyog 2014, confirmed by interviews in community and with NGO staff). The Makilala supporters from the tribe played their part by contesting the Council of Elders already in place and used the customary practice and the FPIC process in a manipulative way. The word of elders were listened to, but just of those elders who were favourable to Makilala. When four of the five barangays gave their consent to the exploration, the pro-Makilala people argued that the tribe was sufficiently represented when it gave their permission to Makilala, but in fact this was not the case at all. First of all, barangay Dangtalan, whose position was against the mine, was already omitted from the process. Second, barangay Guina-ang, was consulted only in the end when the other barangays already had given their consent. Even more so, Guinaang stood not alone in opposing Makilala. Rico said:
In Batum Buhay Philex has been mining for 15-20 years. The people in Tabuk were the number one in opposing the operations there. The barangays at the lower stream section are also against Makilala, like Balanciagao. There were 1000 signatories from the lower stream section. This was one of the things we discussed in Tabuk with the KMT. The lower stream section also included Cagayan and Isabela. - Rico
Yet these people were never consulted in the FPIC process. Far from a consensus that the IPRA prescribed, the MOA was based on a crafted imaginary majority without a real legitimate basis. Pro-Makilala people had substituted the real Council of Elders for the one forged by the NCIP and themselves. The NCIP failed to correctly execute the FPIC process. The company, the NCIP and some people from the tribe thought they could bypass the original authority of the tribe. However, their council of elders was not able to successfully function as a substitute for the original authority of the tribe. Although some elders might have been in favour of the mine, the tribe as a whole did not reach a consensus on the matter, and many if not the majority of the tribe, voiced their disapproval of the mine. Ultimately, the authority lied in the hands of the whole tribe.
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Conclusion and Discussion
The outline of this concluding chapter is as follows: first, I will recapitulate the main findings of this study as presented in the preceding two chapters. This I will briefly link with the theory as discussed at the outset of this thesis. Having done this, I will proceed by stating the theoretical contribution of this study. Then, a brief discussion ensues in which I compare this study with other studies that have dealt with the same topic. Finally, I will end the chapter and this thesis with suggestions and recommendations for the Guinaang, which I hope can help them in their continuing struggle against mining companies and other resource exploitative enterprises from outside.
Main Findings How do the Guinaang engage with the Makilala mining company that wants to undertake a large-scale mining project in their home place? This has been the leading question of this study. In the previous two chapters I set out to answer this question by answering the following sub-questions: who are the Guinaang and what are their livelihoods? What is the mining history of the Guinaang and how is their current mining situation? And lastly, but not less important, how do the Guinaang advocate against or in favour of Makilala? In the first empirical chapter I set out the different livelihood strategies of the Guinaang, namely that of agricultural intensification/extensification, livelihood diversification and migration. I have given a detailed account of how the Guinaang through a combination of these strategies are able to make ends meet. Usually farming forms the basis of the livelihood of a Guinaang family and this is complemented by an array of work, ranging from, e.g., practicing politics in the municipality to practicing out carpentry in Tabuk to working as a domestic helper abroad. In addition to farming, to which the great majority of the Guinaang occupy themselves with, a certain portion of the tribe busies itself with small-scale mining. The Guinaang has been engaged in this endeavour for at least 25 years now. Although the enterprise does no always pay off the effort put into it, occasionally it has been a great help for people’s livelihood. In addition to the livelihood strategies just mentioned, the Guinaang have a specific livelihood style in the form of their general practice of sharing, giving and bayanihan. This style is prevalent in the lives of the Guinaang from the smallest social unit of the nuclear family up to the larger social unit of the tribe. It would not be an exaggeration to
105 state that this livelihood style forms the social glue that binds the tribe together. Yet, cracks had appeared in the social cohesiveness of the Guinaang when the Makilala Mining Company had made its entry in the lives of the Guinaang people. Some people of the tribe were in favour of the mine while others were opposed to it.
Through my fieldwork I had gathered that most farmers and small-scale miners, which inadvertently constitute the great majority of the Guinaang, were against the planned mining project of Makilala, and indeed remain steadfast in their conviction in the present day. This is because they fear, rightly I would say, that the project will affect their environment and hinder their daily going about. Yet, other members of the tribe, see opportunities in Makilala. They belief that instead of harm, it would bring benefits to the community in the form of infrastructure, employment and much needed money. I have found out that when people spoke about potential benefits or disadvantages of Makilala and its planned project they were mostly discussing it in terms of what it meant for their livelihood. People who were less dependent on the natural resources in the environment: government employees, people not engaged in small-scale mining and people from barangay Pugong and Malucsad had more inclination to see Makilala in a favourable light than the people who were directly dependent on their natural environment for their livelihoods. When Makilala and the NCIP made inroads to the community via the FPIC procedure, the company encountered resistance, mainly from barangay Guina-ang.
Resistance In the second empirical chapter I presented the episode in the lives of the Guinaang during which people concerned themselves with either hauling in Makilala or warding the company off. I have labelled the activities of the people that tried to ward it off, resistance. Particularly, I had found that the resistance of the Guinaang against Makilala can be seen as a form of rightful resistance because their main strategy has been that of a combination of legal tactics and grassroots collective action (see O’Brien 1996). Most notably they used the official guidelines of the FPIC as stated in the Indigenous Peoples Right Act to point out the erroneous and manipulative use of the FPIC-process by the NCIP and the Makilala Mining Company. When they were not met in their demands to have a just procedure of the FPIC, the people resorted to grassroots collective action by gathering signatures for a petition against the fraudulent consent presumably given by the leaders and people of the tribe. In
106 my personal communication with members of the tribe I gathered that people covertly went from house to house in barangays Pugong and Malucsad to gather the signatures of the people there. It was known that these barangays formed a bastion for Makilala but that there were still plenty of people living there that were against the mine. I gathered how people of
Guina-ang had contact with anti-Makilala people from these barangays through text messages instead of visiting them so as not to uncover their identity. This form of resistance can be seen as a form of ‘everyday resistance’ as described by such authors as Scott and Kerkvliet. This covert form of resistance had to be carried out because there were tensions between the villagers of the different barangays. Further, people repeatedly told me how ‘higher-ups’ were pro-Makilala and corrupted by money. Because people still held kinship ties with these people, they wanted to remain good relations with them and kept their counter-actions secret. Furthermore, it would be very detrimental to the their livelihoods to see their social relationships deteriorate. This is so because they often relied on each other in their everyday lives through the bayanihan system. In the end however, it was not this hidden form of resistance but the open form of rightful resistance that made the protests of the
Guinaang successful. The demands made by the Guinaang through their petitions had touched the right chord with employees on the national level of the NCIP. The ‘consent’ that was ostensibly given earlier was made void and Makilala had to draw off, at least provisionally.
Theoretical contribution I have used Bebbington’s (1999) holistic livelihood approach to look at the livelihoods of the people. The integration of this framework with micro-political ecology as put forward by
Horowitz (2008) has been instrumental in seeing how the meanings and valuations which people give to their environment informs their perceptions and actions in resource conflicts.
The resistance that ultimately ensued has been looked at different perspectives of resistance: resistance as counter-movement, as counter-hegemony and as everyday forms of resistance (Gramsci 1929-1935, Kerkvliet 1990, 2005, Polanyi 1944, Scott 1985, 1990). Though I have found elements of all the tree forms of resistances in the Guinaang struggle, I have found that rightful resistance most clearly applies to the resistance as carried out by members of the Guinaang tribe. To sum up, this case study has taken the livelihood approach, micro-political ecology
107 and rightful resistance and put them together to look at the resource conflict at hand, namely resistance against large-scale mining by an indigenous tribe. The theoretical contribution of this study is that it reinforces the notion that any study that wants to understand resistance against a resource exploitative company has to take into account the livelihood strategies and styles of the people that resist or do not resist (Rasch and Köhne forthcoming: 3; Theriault 2011: 1418). Omitting this from any analysis of resource conflicts on the grassroots level would mean risking overlooking intra- and inter-community particularities that are just so important in how people see the conflict at hand and to which course of action they will resort.
Comparison with other case studies Rather than focusing on people’s livelihoods, other studies that have looked at what influences people’s predisposition towards a mining company and how they engage with it have put more focus on people’s notions of trust (Dougherty and Olsen 2014; Horowitz 2010). The main argument put forward in these studies is that it is not so much people’s risk assessment of the effect of the mining company to their livelihoods that decide their stance towards it, but how and how much they affiliate with others in the community. Their feeling of connectedness and loyalty to a group, or in other words their ‘relational trust’ or ‘affiliation’, has a major role to play in their disposition towards a mining company according to these authors. I agree with these authors to a large extent. Solely the fact that whole barangays were either largely against Makilala (barangay Guina-ang) or in favour of it (barangays Pugong and Malucsad) shows that social relations, in this case on the level of the barangay, played an important role in people’s predisposition toward a major mining company. Further, I have found in my research how certain clans were largely in favour or against the mine, most clearly, the Atumpa and Bonggad (Abacan-Tongdu) clan. I have found that even if some clan members of the Atumpa clan were living in Pugong or Malucsad, they voiced their disapproval of Makilala. So certainly, relational trust did play a large role. However, my findings diverge from the abovementioned authors, particularly from Dougherty and Olsen (2014), on one point. Dougherty and Olsen have found how people with less relational trust have showed signs of more institutional trust. In other words, instead of putting their trust in local institutions and social relations, these people put more trust in institutions such as the church, the state and technology. These people were found to have
108 more trust in mining companies than the other people in their community who showed more trust in their local institutions and social relations. For my case study however, I have found that even pro-Makilala people showed high levels of relational trust. They highly valued their contacts with fellow tribes members.
There is another point on which my study disagree with that of Dougherty and Olsen. Dougherty and Olsen correlate higher levels of institutional trust with low self-efficacy (confidence in one’s own capacities), arguing that people that are in favour or the mine tend to have less confidence in their own agency. Yet, I have found how pro-Makilala people showed high self-efficacy as they were confident in their own capacities and they actively pursued livelihood strategies to make the best of their lives. In short, my case study accords with the studies mentioned in that relational trust plays a large role in people’s predisposition. However, it contrasts with the study of Daugherty and Olsen (2014) in that relational trust is not only important for mining opponents, but also for mining supporters. I would argue that indeed people’s level of trust informs a large part of how people see a mining company, but there are also other criteria, perhaps more influential criteria, on which people base their views. One such criterion is how people perceive what effect the mining company will have on their livelihoods. I argue that both social relationships (in the forms of trust and affiliation, but also in the form of social capital) and livelihood strategies, are main elements in the formation process of people’s opinion on the mine. In fact, it would only be artificial to set these two elements apart from each other, because they are in essence interconnected. Social relationships form a central part of people’s livelihood styles and strategies, and people’s livelihood styles and strategies determine for a large part people’s social relationships.
Suggestions and recommendations
Leaving the field and writing this thesis, the words of Alex have often reverberated in my head: ‘we are not finished yet, the struggle will go on’. Certainly, I agree with Alex, as long as there is gold underneath the soil of the Guinaang, it is high likely that mining companies will try to dig and get it. As a matter of fact, while I was still there, Makilala tried to strengthen the bond with the people from Pugong. I witnessed how a new public latrine was being built in
Pugong, financed by Makilala. Proponents also told me that they did not fully understand why the exploration had not even started yet and that that they would just wait for the next
109 president to give the start sign to Makilala to mine. They still hoped and wanted that Makilala would come to their place. Therefore, I have two suggestions for the Guinaang to remain strong in their resistance against Makilala and other large-scale mining companies. The first is to apply for a Certificate of Ancestral Domain Title, the second is to create a strong small- scale mining organization. When the area is officially registered as an ancestral domain, mining companies would have a much harder time to be able to mine the area. This is because having an ancestral domain grants people access to the Exercise of Priority Right (EPR). This gives people the right and privilege to fully enjoy the benefits of the natural resources on their ancestral domain. This EPR has only been granted in a handful of cases in the Philippines. Still it is a real possibility for the Guinaang to obtain it as the Balatoc, the neighbouring tribe, has already obtained this right in 2007 and revalidated it in 2014 (The Philippine Star 2014). Further, I encourage the people to continue their pursuit to establish a small-scale mining organization. First, by doing this they can strengthen their legal position vis-à-vis mining companies. Second, and more important, by doing this they can greatly increase the effectiveness, productivity and gains from the small-scale mining operations. The Guinaang do not need a large-scale mining company or another company to gain the benefits of their natural resources, they can gain it themselves.
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Appendices
Figure 1: Livelihood Framework (1) (Bebbington 1999: 2029)
111
Figure 2: Livelihood Framework (2) (Bebbington 1999: 2030)
112
Figure 3: Overlap between Mines and IPs (Holden et al. 2011: 150)
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Figure 4: Cordillera Administrative Region: Existing and Potential Mining Sites. Source: Land is Life, CPA 2009
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Figures 5 and 6: portraits of chief Atumpa
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Figure 7: Philippine Administrative Structure
Figure 8: Income classification of Philippine municipalities. Source: http://www.nscb.gov.ph/activestats/psgc/articles/con_income.asp.
Class Average annual income (₱) 2015 equivalent
First 55,000,000 or more ₱ 65.6 million
Second 45,000,000 – 54,999,999 ₱ 53.7 million
Third 35,000,000 – 44,999,999 ₱ 41.7 million
Fourth 25,000,000 – 34,999,999 ₱ 29.8 million
Fifth 15,000,000 – 24,999,999 ₱ 17.9 million
Sixth less than 15,000,000
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Figure 9 and 10: Barangay Guina-ang up-close and from afar.
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Figure 11 and 12: barangay Galdang and Malucsad
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Figure 13: List of overseas workers from Guinaang in Hong Kong and contribution paid to renovation of Catholic church Philippine pesos.
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Figure 14: List of overseas workers in Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, Dubai, Singapore and South-Korea
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Figure 15: List of overseas workers in Taiwan.
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Figure 16: List of overseas workers in the U.S.A. and Canada.
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Figure 17: Historic overview of FPIC process and protest against Makilala
1994, October 27 Makilala filed request for exploration at Pasil, Kalinga
2005 Application of Makilala to start exploration
mining in Pasil, Kalinga
2013, Augustus 12 Pre-FPIC conference (Tabuk city)
2013, September 9 Manifesto against Makilala (by GIPO), protesting fake council of elders, protesting exclusion of barangay Dangtalan
2013, November 29 – November 30 First assembly (per brgy). Signing of resolution of consent (by 4 of 5 brgys), sign
for approval representation tribe by brgy council of elders*
2013, December 1 Assembly in Guina-ang proper. Strong protest. Halt to FPIC. First settle: 1) dispute Guinaang-Balatoc; 2) land declarations by tribe members**
Despite objections an Assembly for MOA had been scheduled for December 14 (2013)
2013, December 14 Assembly for MOA.
2013, December 6 Complaint to NCIP: violation of FPIC process
by provincial NCIP.
2013, December 10 Submission of petition to central office NCIP stating violations of FPIC process and demanding a TRO
Temporary Restraining Order
2014, February Provincial NCIP and private lawyer of
Makilala declare complaint of Guinaang Null and Void.
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2014, February 22 Resolution to Municipal mayor to sponsor General Assembly of G. tribe: for discussing the issues
2014, March 8 First General Assembly of IFAGPI
2014, March 11 General Assembly Guinaang tribe.
2014, April 23-26 Cordillera Day 2014 in Guinaang Poblacion (hosted by GIPO and IFAGPI). Sealing of Unity Pact against the mine.
*”even before […] November 29-30 and December 1, personnel of the Kalinga Provincial Office of the NCIP were already seeking signatures to documents which are
(i) a resolution of consent (ii) a resolution authorizing their hand-picked “Council of Elders”
** “The inaccuracy of the NCIP Field-based Investigation Report on the land area of the barangays Galdang, Bagtayan, Guinaang Poblacion, Pugong and Malucsad were [also] raised.”
(back to text)
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Figure 18: Organizational structure of the NCIP
Office of the President
Commission en banc Consultative Body Chairman
Executive Director
7 Bureaus 13 regional Offices
46 Provincial Offices
108 Community Service
Centres
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Figure 19 and 20: Rice terraces near Guina-ang, swiddens in-between Galdang and Ginobat.
126
Figure 21 and 22: Barangay Bagtayan seen from trail going to Ginobat. Uncultivated land marked by a cross. This is to ascertain that no one else but the marker will use the land for cultivation purposes.
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Figure 23: barangay Bagtayan. By courtesy of Lotte Goossens and Michiel Ouvry.
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Figure 24 and 25: Alicio bringing rice from the fields to the village. Alex Lingbawan at his home. (they are brother-in-laws). By courtesy of Lotte and Michiel.
129
Figure 26 and 27: Ginobat. Mining site Bolloy Alan and Umbog.
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Figure 28 and 29: (old) mining site of Magadgad. Active from 1989 to 1991. Lots of high grade ore was found during that time. Log cabins at mining site Magadgad.
131
Figure 30: ball mill
132
Figure 31 and 32: camps at mining site Umbog. Lower picture is camp of Ray.
133
Figure 33: the author at a mining tunnel.
134
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